Hybrid Theory
by Felix McKraken
Summary: Vegeta's life after the Cell Games abruptly turns into chaos. As he is threatened to be consumed by an old problem, his choices spiral out of control till he is lost among them. Will refusing defeat cost him his life? Loosely based on Linkin Park's album "Hybrid Theory."
1. Papercut

Thank you: Klepto, for helping me figure out what to do. Skip, for harassing me.  
Disclaimers: If I owned it, why would I be writing fanfiction? DUUUUR.  
  
**Papercut**  
  
_Why does it feel like night today?  
Something in here's not right today...  
Why am I so uptight today?  
Paranoia's all I got left  
I don't know what stressed me first  
Or how the pressure was fed  
but I know just what it feels like  
To have a voice in the back of my head  
  
It's like a face that I hold inside  
A face that awakes when I close my eyes  
A face watches every time I lie  
A face that laughs every time I fall  
(And watches everything)  
So I know that when it's time to sink or swim  
That the face inside is hearing me, right beneath my skin_  
  
It didn't matter how long he'd been living on Earth - the fact of the matter was that he could never find a regular sleep schedule. No matter what he did it was never the right time to wake up. Too early. Too late. Rarely just right. And even when he awoke to see the peppy sun shining into the room, his body, his mind, was telling him that it wasn't right. It should still be night, with the moon up, and the sun down. It wasn't the first time it had happened, so he ignored it. Besides, he told himself, there was no moon to rise anyway. He got up quickly, his head spinning in a nauseating fashion. He ignored that as well. Pausing only briefly, he shed his sleepwear, which consisted of a pair of training shorts. He approached the dresser to dig out an outfit. He paused though, feeling that feeling of someone watching him. He hunched over, letting his elbows lock and his hands support his upper body.  
  
The faint buzzing filled him again. That overwhelming feeling of wrongness. Like a dirty gaze was laying its forbidden eyes upon him. It wouldn't be the first time. Nor the last, he was certain. He slowly raised his eyes to challenge that unwanted spectator. Would he verbally argue with his constant taunter and torturer? His fingers increased pressure against the polished hard wood surface. Finger nail scratchings etched themselves onto the fine surface. Eight more. Eight more, from eight more, from eight to eight to eight more. They overlapped one another. The dark charcoal was waiting to be kindled into life, just waiting for lighter fluid to soak it, and a spark to ignite.  
  
"What are you laughing at?" demanded the Prince of Saijins. His reflection only showed a curt frown. "It's not polite to laugh," Vegeta stated, narrowing his eyes, watching eyes narrow back at him. He grit his teeth and dealt with it. He always dealt with it. "Fuckin'..grow up. You're so childish," he told the reflection with disgust, ignoring the face that undoubtingly was making crude gestures at him.   
  
_It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back  
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head  
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within  
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin_  
  
As he knelt to examine the contents of his drawers he felt the numbness sweep over his brain like an intoxicating drug. Like a praying mantis (or perhaps spider would be a more suiting analogy), he could literally not move a muscle for hours on end. He didn't even blink. He was too accustomed to the strange release. Never escape. Just gently his mind would lapse, time would halt, then cease to exist. There was only the faint buzzing. The odd sensation in his lower spine - his phantom tail.  
  
He blinked, snapping out of it as he felt an annoying pulse in his arm. He looked down at it, watching an enlarged vein move with the beating of his heart. He tried to ignore it. It wasn't the first time it had happened. He squinted, his eyes burning from their overexposure to the air. He held his hand against the vein, attempting to will it to stop its motions. That face, that voice, taunted him again. "Oh shut up," Vegeta muttered, turning his attention immediately to putting on his clothes. He'd go downstairs and train, and there wouldn't be any of this sidelines bullshit.  
  
He slipped on his clothes quickly and padded his way to the gravity chamber. His conscious, willing, release. He stepped inside and automatically punched in the commands. It was second nature to him by this point in time. Odd how he could learn certain functions by rote, but not sleeping habits. Come to think of it, Vegeta realized, he hadn't had a good night's rest as far as he could remember. He should be used to it by now. But he wasn't. Lack of REM makes one act a bit off. The only time he'd ever been able to think clearly was in the regeneration tank. What he'd give for one right now... Not for the ability to give him nearly instantaneous recovery, but for that feeling of being suspended effortlessly. To be surrounded by water, and not to be drowning. Drowning, drowning, drowning...  
  
The intense gravity strained him, but he barely even felt it as he moved about in his ritualistic routine. The pressure on him was outstanding. There was always pressure on him. From Bulma, from Trunks, from Kakkarot, from..everyone. Especially from _him_.  
  
_I know I've got a face in me  
points out all the mistakes to me  
You've got a face on the inside too and  
Your paranoia's probably worse  
I don't know what set me off first but I know what I can't stand  
Everybody acts like the fact of the matter is  
I can't add up to what you can but  
  
Everybody has a face that they hold inside  
A face that awakes when they close their eyes  
A face watches every time they lie  
A face that laughs every time they fall  
(And watches everything)  
So you know that when it's time to sink or swim  
That the face inside is watching you too, right inside your skin_  
  
Every grueling day was preparation for the upcoming battle. Whether it was inner or outer turmoil made no difference. He'd try and tell himself it was for his own good. That he'd never get anywhere if he slacked off. Hard work and dedication was all it took to achieve your dreams. His life was wasted in an obsession of lies. And he told himself it'd all be worth it, someday. Someday tomorrow or ten years down the road. His life was slipping by, and there was nothing that was going to bring him back - bring it back - eventually. He was only ready when he said he was ready. His mind set near impossible goals. But he was supposed to be Super Saijin, and he was.  
  
'Anything that you can do, I can do better,' the sing-song voice lilted in the back of his mind, 'I can do anything better than you.' He snarled savagely, his arms snapping out to punch the air, his muscles stretching, his joints aching from the abuse. He stopped. Breathing sounded like a perfectly good and rational thing to do at the moment.  
  
Vegeta had a problem with his ego, and with his pride. He deserved to be taken down a peg or two. If he just minded his own damn business and left the others alone, he'd be almost okay. If he didn't open his stupid mouth and piss everyone off with his general idiocy, the world just might've been a bit better. He was left voiceless, however. A grave injustice that needed to be rectified. One that he constantly tried to fix. He never got his point across. His incessant annoyances were mistaken for immaturity. He thought quite the opposite. It was never his fault.  
  
No matter how often Vegeta miscalculated, it was somehow fixable. Nothing was an unobtainable point. It took time, that was all. Precious time. How many years had he trained to face his greatest foe, only to fail? Three more years was all he needed. That accompanied with the ferocious need and bitter facts. He would've never made it alone. He hadn't made it alone.  
  
_The sun goes down  
I feel the light betray me_  
  
He sighed and let himself give a side-ways glance towards the window. He did a double take. It was dusk, already. Twilight. Why did his life revolve around twilight? Why did the sun have to set, the blasted thing? That god-forsaken ball of gas burning away to its death just had to slip beneath the horizon....to betray him like so many other things. He growled and punched in a few buttons, deactivating the gravity. It wasn't fair. He'd just gotten up a few minutes before. 


	2. One Step Closer

**One Step Closer**  
  
_I cannot take this anymore  
I'm saying everything I've said before  
All these words they make no sense  
I find bliss in ignorance  
Less I hear the less you'll say  
But you'll find that out anyway  
Just like before..._  
  
His woman was complaining - bitching at him - for something he wasn't even sure he did. He couldn't remember everything he did. He didn't _want_ to remember everything he'd done. It was that simple. So he let his normal rant ensue, just letting the same shit slip off of his tongue, just in different words. He knew this too by rote. If he hadn't learned it, the results would be disastrous and his little speeches would come out nothing more than a heap of jumbled words with letters tossed in for fun - like a crossword puzzle. In other words, he was distracted.  
  
"What did you say?" she abruptly asked. Damn, he thought. He must've said too much. Either that or slipped up. And either way, it wasn't good. What she didn't know, didn't hurt her. It was better this way, really. So he simply chose to ignore her question, and started a tirade about everything and nothing and anything. This, of course, made her immediately yell right back at him. And he let her scream and holler as he let that buzzing in the back of his head crescendo. It was the same thing now as it was years ago. The enraged lecture. The punishment. The screw up later on. And return of the confrontation. Return of the lecture, the punishment, the process. It was beginning to lose its luster.  
  
_Everything you say to me  
Takes me one step closer to the edge  
And I'm about to break  
I need a little room to breathe  
Cause I'm one step closer to the edge  
And I'm about to break_  
  
He finally got enough sense in him to just walk off. He was too sick, mentally and physically, to deal with that woman's constant harangues. He found solace in the bathroom. Just like the good ole days. Yes, the good ole days of kneeling down and paying homage to the porcelain god. At least no one had to hold his hair back for him. But the days of sudden bouts of uncontrollable nausea were over. They had come and gone when he'd finally learned to deal with the fluctuation of being thrown every which way across the galaxies.  
  
But now he felt the swarm inside his head. The imbalance of the world made stomach acid linger in the back of his throat. He didn't like the taste of stomach acid. He coughed and blinked away the ever unfocusing world, finding the air around him much too stuffy to breathe. He opened the window and inhaled deeply, taking in cool oxygen which seemed to revitalize him. This was barely enough. This was barely holding him at bay. And this would barely last.  
  
He slowly made his way over to the counter, lifting himself and lowering himself to take a seat. He turned his head, gazing idly. Dark charcoal just waiting, waiting.... Sift, sift, useless leftovers collecting, collecting; what was once useful and craving for that spark, now loathed it and its consuming glory.... "You shouldn't attempt to talk to that woman," Vegeta spoke towards the mirror. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze into a different direction, "Yeah, well...." He sighed, turning his back on the mirror, "It's not like it matters anyway." He had to wonder, how did he manage to let this life slip up on him? Sneak up on him without being aware? How was it possible?  
  
_I find the answers aren't so clear  
Wish I could find a way to disappear  
All these thoughts they make no sense  
I find bliss in ignorance  
Nothing seems to go away  
Over and over again  
_  
  
There was no reasonable explanation to it all. He didn't even want to venture towards the unreasonable ones. How he longed for a way to rid himself of all the picky restrictions he'd set himself up to get. If only he could break the chains he had forged with his own hands. This certainly wasn't fair. Two plus two was definitely _not_ four. It was always five, or six, or....  
  
For some reason he wanted to just turn and vomit into the toilet. Just to feel that faint familiar sensation. Something held him back, though. Those dirty eyes and their relentless stare. Those disapproving ever-birthing eyes. "You just can't leave me alone..can you?" Vegeta asked quietly, looking fixedly at nothing. If he could only achieve that one goal. If only he'd done such and such in a different manner. If only he'd been there and the thing was just not likely to see that he had been watching the time that wasn't going anywhere andifonlyslowdowndidn'texist-ifonlyhewouldn'tgiveinnottothe..thing...of...the buzzing...that...heady...sensation....  
  
_"Shut up when I'm talking to you."_  
  
A knock on the door interrupted everything. Everything halted for that loud banging on the wooden object. Vegeta felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. "Vegeta, are you in there!?" that woman called out, her voice muffled. He cleared his throat as a precautionary measure.  
  
"What of it?" he retaliated, slipping off of the counter and stretching his stiff muscles. He listened to the pop of his joints as he waited for a response which soon came.  
  
"I need to get in there, stupid!" Bulma said matter-of-factly, "I have to be at work in thirty minutes! So come on, and move!" He ignored her request for departure as he spun around, nearly gawking.  
  
It seemed he had been betrayed _again_ as that damned star made its light visible. All too sudden, his silence was shattered by the chirping of birds in mid-song. How was it possible..? He growled low in his throat, slamming the window shut. It was possible. It was possible because he let it be possible. One of his greatest fears came into play - the horrible realization that he was wrong, and this was his fault. Completely, and entirely, his fault. With no one else to blame. He wouldn't be able to stand this type of pressure alone. He wasn't sure if he could handle it _not_ alone either. But it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.  
  
He swung open the door and ignored the woman, just swiftly trudging down a path he'd learned by rote till he found that mattress. He lied down and stared at the ceiling. Too early. Too late. Rarely just right. He didn't know when he fell asleep, he only knew of the perpetual twilight. 


	3. With You

A/N: Due to a request I must say that my favorite Linkin Park song is "By Myself".  
  
**With You**  
  
_I woke up in a dream today  
To the cold of the static and put my cold feet on the floor  
Forgot all about yesterday  
Remembering I'm pretending to be where I'm not anymore  
A little taste of hypocrisy  
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake slow to react  
Even though you're so close to me  
You're still so distant, And I can't bring you back_  
  
His eyes opened, bringing the unfocusedness into view. The inability to pull out of the dense fog was disturbing in the least. Visually, it was as if he was still asleep. If he had slept. If he was sleeping now. He just wasn't certain...his body wasn't sore, so he didn't have the pain as assurance, and his own mind was too lazy to start processing all the recent data to make a difference. Now _that_ would certainly be a change..his brain deciding to help, not hinder, his situation.  
  
Somewhere there was that buzzing, if it was even there at all. He blinked, or he thought he blinked. Just for kicks he reminded himself, 'My name is Vegeta. I am the Prince of Saijins.' It was the extent of his power at the moment. The buzzing was there. Or wasn't. The endless ongoingness. Like the static on the television. He couldn't count how many times he'd turned that on only to wake up the next morning. Just right. It reminded him of his scouter. His boredom. Of sitting in a capsule by himself and listening to frequency upon frequency of nothingness. It was reassuring. It proved to him that Freeza didn't own everything. Freeza was mortal, and he wasn't perfect.  
  
But now the tyranny of the iceling had come and gone. So many things had come to pass. He didn't like to reminisce. Things had changed, simply. He'd settled down, compared to the way he'd previously run his life. He had a woman, and an heir, and he trained. He couldn't, and wouldn't, allow any more degradation. He felt his head spin numbingly as he recalled that it was his fault anyway. This was the way it was because he let it happen this way. If only he'd done something different. If only this...If only that...  
  
It had taken long agonizing hours for him to realize that he wouldn't be the last of his kind if he didn't let his pride get in the way. That if he hadn't been so foolish all these problems could've been avoided. It was _his_ fault Kakkarot was dead. It had taken long agonizing hours for him to deal with this realization. He went through the normal phases: shock, denial, anger, guilt, denial, acceptance, denial, defeat. Then later he'd deny it all again and go as far as to make up excuses for it all. He could never, ever, find a reason. This was his life. Indefinitely. Terror had come and gone, as well as his greatest rival. How much time did he dedicate to the very last other than him? How much of his precious life was gone? He felt his eyes blink - the blur, the blackness, the blur. Nothing was clear. Nothing had been for a long time.  
  
_It's true the way I feel  
Was promised by your face  
The sound of your voice  
Painted on my memories  
Even if you're not with me  
I'm with you_  
  
Suddenly, almost painfully, he was brought out into his surroundings. The silence was deafening, his ears ringing loudly. He grit his teeth and managed to get to his feet, heading towards the dresser. There, again, exactly on schedule, was that revoltingly putrid gaze. Elbows locked, hands supported, fingers added eight to eight. And the charcoal was there, daring for that spark, just daring for existence. The sad thing was that he'd been warned about all this. About screwing up along the way and being forced to regret it. Which he did. It was brutal, and his memories often whispered back words to him. And how could he ignore _that_? He should be able to by now. It'd been years.  
  
_You, Now I see keeping everything inside  
You, Now I see even when I close my eyes_  
  
As he brought himself to look up in the mirror, he only managed to see the only trustworthy person in his life. He'd been there for him, and had helped him through the nights where he couldn't fall asleep. And no matter how annoying it was, the respite seemed to make the end justify the means. How long could this go on? A sigh worked its way up his throat and he released it. He could feel it fading. The clock was ticking in a rhetorical fashion. He wanted to throw the object against the wall and smash apart the pieces. His clock was ticking, and he knew it. It was only a matter of the trigger. Of the flint. He never wanted to confront the problem, but he knew his problem would confront him. He knew it as he felt the buzzing, humming a cheerful tune mockingly, overcome him. This was it.  
  
_I hit you and you hit me back  
We fall to the floor, the rest of the day stands still  
Fine line between this and that  
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn't real  
Now I'm trapped in this memory  
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react  
Even though you're close to me  
You're still so distant, And I can't bring you back_  
  
Bone hit bone, with only a thin layer of skin separating. It was a swift, abrupt move that was barely anticipated. A full swing that connected with his jaw that sent him reeling. He crashed on the edge of the bed, his body slipping and falling to the floor. Pain reared its ugly little head and danced across his jaw. He touched the bruise and basked in the sharp sting of it all. He _wasn't_ asleep. But as the grotesque awareness settled in, he wondered if he really wanted this to be listed under his conscious actions. Even if he did recognize it, it was likely he would deny it. Yeah, he could just let this slide, and pretend it didn't happen. His jaw ached and he stared into open space. No, this wasn't going to work. Denial only works if you don't think you're denying it. Without denial, the barriers came down. It was like a tidal wave of buzzing. This and that became that. This and that was that. This and that was this. This was it. A Kodak moment.  
  
The sun rose and began to fall again when finally hunger pangs wracked his lithe form. When was the last time he ate? Yesterday? The day before? He couldn't seem to motivate himself enough to do the simple act of standing. Maybe he'd die here, on this miserable little planet.  
  
_No  
No matter how far we've come  
I can't wait to see tomorrow  
With you_  
  
But he wasn't alone anymore. He didn't have to deal with everything, and ignore everything, and do nothing anymore. Sure, he'd made lots of mistakes, but they were excusable and as forgivable as any. Those who were hurt didn't hold any grudges, so everything was starting to look up. He could finally start a project of his desire. He could finally achieve a goal. Tomorrow was a new day, and the sky was _not_ the limit. He had inspiration, and a meaning, but he wasn't sure if he wanted the attention. He could finally live his own life. It was going to be glorious. As Vegeta glanced at the mirror, he thought, 'This is going to be hideously atrocious.' 


	4. Points of Authority

**Points of Authority**  
  
_Forfeit the game, Before somebody else  
Takes you out of the frame, Puts your name to shame  
Cover up your face, You can't run the race  
The pace is too fast, You just won't last_  
  
As his body slammed itself against the cold floor, and a well of blood filled his mouth, his previous hypothesis was proven. His sweat was cold, his body hot, and his head pounding like someone had taken a metal baseball bat to it. In short, he was one very unhappy camper. Yesterday had been a day for admittance and rehabilitation. Today was a day for suffering and preparation, but he wasn't sure if there was a necessary order for any of it. He forced his body to obey him and he lifted himself back up. The gravity was too intense on his untransformed body. As much as he loved being Super Saijin, he loathed it. He didn't want to use it now, though the simple step up was beckoning to him.  
  
He stumbled and nearly fell to his knees, pausing to keep his breathing in check. Blood dripped to the ground from his open mouth, making soft noises against the hard floor. Steeling his resolve, he stood up straight and began his routine again. He shouldn't have slacked off; he shouldn't have let himself become distracted. Of course, he regretted this now. He screwed up and regretted it. And ignored the warning signs previously given. It wasn't possible for him to gain the power he craved in such a short amount of time. Just a few days prior and he had all the time he could spare, but now...now, he had only until tomorrow. He hoped that just for one day, the sun would not betray him, and he hoped that for just one day, he'd be able to wake up just right.  
  
Who was he kidding? This was too little, too late. Even if he trained all night he'd never recover in enough time for it to actually make a difference. So either way, he was destined to lose again, and his royal birthright would be smeared with soot. Like it had been so many times before. Already he could sense the impending doom. His clock was counting down the hours till he fought his greatest rival (who had surely spent no time sitting around all day contemplating over his sleep or lack thereof, but instead had most likely trained harder than ever). He felt the calling of the golden aura itch at the back of his mind. It was going to be this way, because he let it happen. It wasn't even worth it anymore. It was shameful, humiliating, and he was going to do it. Because he'd be damned if he'd go down without a fight, the stupid fool that he was.  
  
Hn. Go down without a fight? What was to occur probably wouldn't even _be_ considered a fight. Screw his desires, and his whole life. 'Congratulations,' he thought to himself, looking up at nothing, 'You've officially made your own life a living Hell for the umpteenth time.'  
  
_You love the way I look at you  
While taking pleasure in the awful things you put me through  
You take away if I give in  
My life, My pride, is broken_  
  
He stormed over to the console and smashed the dials in. The gravity instantly returned to normal, and he thought smugly, 'That woman will have a wonderful time trying to fix this.' He flexed his hand which sat snuggly inside the bowels of the control system, letting his fingers twine around wires. With an empowered smirk, he barely tugged, watching with joy and listening intently for the wires to snap like twigs. A conglomerate of multiple colors sizzled in the air, their power ebbing and fading away. Without another thought on the matter, he dropped it all and went out the door.  
  
He went to his room, the only location left for succor, and the place for his everlasting anguish - but then again, any place was proper for managing to find a way to make de-stress turn into distress. He managed to take a seat on the edge of the bed before he felt that buzzing.  
  
"What have I always told you?"  
  
"You have the worst timing."  
  
"I plan all this, you know."  
  
"I figured as much."  
  
"So what took you so long to comprehend it?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"You've always had problems with the truth."  
  
"The truth hurts."  
  
"That it does."  
  
Vegeta ran a hand through his hair, stopping to grasp the ebony locks and pull. If only there was a way to make this all better. But there was no quick fix for it. There was no remedy, at least, none that had already been generated. He exhaled shakily, only knowing that his room was no longer a place of seclusion, privacy, and relief. He was the prince of an extinct race. He failed his people. He even served the same vile creature which had taken them away. What pride he had left was decimated to a pile of ashes from the events of the past week.  
  
"You mean, the past how many years?"  
  
_You like to think you're never wrong  
(You live what you learn)  
You want to act like you're someone  
(You live what you learn)  
You want someone to hurt like you  
(You live what you learn)  
You want to share what you've been through  
(You live what you learn)_  
  
Vegeta growled, first quietly, but then he let it rise with his anger, till he snarled viciously like a caged animal. The buzzing had taken its toll, and now it didn't try to mask its poisonous interior. Poisonous or remediation? It didn't matter. Nothing did. Not tomorrow, or the fight, or Kakkarot. No, all that mattered was right here, right now.  
  
"You're _not_ perfect! You have no say over me!"  
  
Ignoring the problem never made it go away. But as predicted, his problem confronted him. He was not to be outdone. Just as his mistakes were pointed out to him, he wanted to point some back. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, the buzzing swarming in his ears - dulling his senses. He pushed it back. If that didn't work, he _would_ shove. Whispering in the background was the easy way out, but he refused it. An easy way out was always the most difficult path to take. He no longer thrived on his cowardice, his denial, his self-righteousness. If this was the way things were going to be, so be it. He was not going to be left behind in the wake of a raging, uncontrollable fire. It was time to put his favorite annoyance into place.  
  
Vegeta thought likewise, as this often happened.  
  
"I've seen the way you run your life! I have every right to overrule your sorry ass!"  
  
Vegeta felt his head spin, and the world did a 360. He vomited - but he only knew this because of the taste of stomach acid which assaulted him. Everything was out of control. His vision did a number of spectacular effects, all of which slammed his nerve-endings with raw agony. He closed his eyes, or opened them. He waged war against the buzzing which had dominated a good portion of his life ever since he was a child.  
  
_You love the things I say I'll do-  
The way I'll hurt myself again just to get back at you  
You take away when I give in  
My life, My pride is broken_  
  
It was serious this time. His decision to break free was striking in its self-destructiveness. Here's where the lines were drawn, when previously nothing had existed other than a faint blur that pathetically tried to consider itself a boundary. There was something here. Smooth, breakable. Glass. Then, there was reflection, and he was startled. Where he previously had seen nothing but dust, a phoenix had been reborn, and a blaze burned so hot and bright, he was astounded by the sheer intensity. Faintly, he felt an ache in his jaw. A wake up call? Perhaps. A punishment? More than likely. He jeered, hoping that the distraction would win over the battle. But then he suddenly remembered, that this wasn't just a battle. It was much more. It was the final say in all the matters that had been disagreed upon. This was a war.  
  
This fight wasn't going to be bloody, or gruesome like so many others he'd experienced, but it held the highest stakes he'd ever wagered. He could gain everything, lose it all, or end up breaking even. Almost any direction was a disappointment waiting to happen. But what did he have left to worry about? He only had the remains to make himself over again. Even if he lost, it could only be the worst case scenario at the moment. He wouldn't be able to go any farther down, and for that, he was at least thankful on some level. He licked his dry lips, pulling himself together. He thought, 'Bring it on.'  
  
_Forfeit the game, Before somebody else  
Takes you out of the frame, Puts your name to shame  
Cover up your face, You can't run the race  
The pace is too fast, You just won't last_  
  
A mass of color and shapes hung around like intangible visions. This was for his childhood, and his submission towards the destroyer of his home world. This was for his pompous attitude, and ignorance towards reality. This was for his empty threats and intolerable arrogance. This was for letting everything cloud his judgment. This was for his foolishness. This was for all the times he'd nearly killed himself because he let others slip him up. This was for letting his pride get in the way of progress. This was for... This was punishment for killing Kakkarot.  
  
His peripheral vision faded away as black spots began to blot across his eyes. What was left was spinning, spinning, spinning out of control...He gagged on the rancid, acerbic flavor in the back of his dry throat, the taste more potent than ever. He vaguely felt his body moving, its constant struggle for balance and coordination. Then, he too was spinning, spinning, spinning out of control...and then, he was falling, falling, falling... All he saw was multiples of eight before a sharp sting throbbed on his forehead, taking the form of a horizontal line. There wasn't a buzzing anymore, just a loud..presence, that was finally making a name for itself. He choked, and clawed into the air, his eyes doing something. He struggled harshly, thrashing about on the upside-down ceiling as his heartbeat slammed his ear drums. Oh god, he was drowning, drowning...drowning...  
  
He was being pulled under. He hiccupped, and then instantly coughed, and finally retched, as nothing was left in stomach. He fought hard, desperate. He didn't wish to be subdued. The sun was fading, fading....Twilight. Always twilight. He found the grip on him and attacked it with as much ferocity as he could muster, letting all his pent up frustration be his guide. Push came to shove, and he shoved. Everything went spinning, his heart-beat escalated; he broke free of the liquid buzzing and took in the gas of life. The sun faded away, taking all of its light with it. It did not betray him today. For whatever merciful reason, it decided to bless him with the night.  
  
He slumped in exhaustion, staring out of the window at the sky littered with tiny dots of light. He blinked wearily as he felt himself laying on a small, rectangular object. He pulled it out from underneath himself and lifted it, instantly recognizing it. He pushed the red button while aiming. Black, white, and grey glowed above him in a random mess. There was no more buzzing. He felt reassured. His eyes closed and he allowed himself to succumb to unconsciousness. 


	5. Crawling

A/N: I will explain anything confusing at the end of the fic, so if you have any questions, leave it in a review.  
  
**Crawling**  
  
_Crawling  
  
Crawling in my skin  
These wounds they will not heal  
Fear is how I fall  
Confusing what is real_  
  
His eyes fluttered open, giving him a new perspective on his room. His head ached, but other than that, he was fairly okay. One sweep of the room and he could tell what time of day it was. Morning, fairly early, around eightish. His hand still clutched the remote, and he decided to turn off the television. Just right. He woke up just right. Then, he merely lied on the ground, breathing deeply as if still in slumber. He enjoyed the silence that was of the likes of which he'd never known before. It was bliss, until he realized he could be dreaming. He'd been able to feel mild pain in dreams before, so it was quite disconcerting. What if this was a dream, and what occurred yesterday was only a figment of his imagination?  
  
His body shot up, and he instantly felt a dynamic pulsation in his forehead. He winced at the unexpected irritation, and let his hand rise to touch the ache. He felt something other than skin. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and, hesitantly, he approached the mirror. It was now broken he noted. Cautiously, he peered at his own reflection, but there was no grubby, foul gaze, or infuriating smirk. He did, however, possess a narrow horizontal gash above his left eye. Apparently it had bled, but the wound seemed to be healing up nicely otherwise.  
  
It felt so unreal. But faintly, he knew it was finally over. It brought a relieved smile to his lips. Shaking off the stupor he'd awoken in, he began to pull out some clothes. He adorned a simple navy long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of brown pleated dress pants, and also black dress shoes with a matching belt to go along. He pulled out his battle garb and threw the armor into a sack. He made a pit stop at the bathroom and washed his face, pausing to absorb the freedom he felt. It was new and exhilarating. He was _almost_ excited about his fight today. Shrugging it off, he padded downstairs where his woman and brat were waiting.  
  
"Ready to go?" asked Bulma as she finished fussing over Trunks' apparel. He gave her one swift nod, but then decided to let a small grin follow. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, then decide to mirror the expression. It didn't take her long to focus her attention back onto her son, "Ready to go, Trunks?"  
  
The purple-haired boy tried to contain his excitement, "You bet!!" So they were on their way.  
  
_There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface  
Consuming, confusing  
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending  
Controlling, I can't seem..._  
  
It didn't take as long as he thought it would to get there. He kept tapping his foot, and he kept trying to stop it. He was nervous, but why? He already knew what was to come, so what could happen? The errant thought kept him occupied as they parked and began the long walk for registration. Bulma gave him a knowing glance, as if to say, "I know something's bothering you, but I know better than to touch the subject with a forty foot pole." He wasn't sure if he wanted to touch it himself, but he allowed himself to attempt a gentle prod.  
  
It all ceased when a familiar ki appeared only a few yards in front of him. He managed to find the courage to raise his gaze. There, with a smile gracing his features, and a halo above his head, was Kakkarot. A sudden well of emotion gushed, then flared, as his family and friends rushed to give him a group hug. Even Bulma ran to his side. His muscles clenched unbearably, knots welling up across his body, cramps exceedingly painful. He ignored it all, and then lowered his gaze. His son was standing next to him. A faint smile pulled at the corner of his lips, though it was almost sarcastic. He stood, silently, watching everyone get reunited. Eventually, Trunks went to stand by Goten. As much as he wanted to move, an arbitrary thought kept him restrained, 'I should've been the one who died.'  
  
His eyes briefly met Kakkarot's, but he blinked and turned his head to the side, as if it was an accident it had even happened. He was confused. He was free, and he had no idea what to do. It was too much to take. He didn't know..he didn't know if he could make it. He began to wonder if this was such a good idea. 'What could happen?'  
  
_...to find myself again  
My walls are closing in  
(Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)  
I've felt this way before  
So insecure_  
  
The next time he blinked, it was announced that he'd been paired up against Kakkarot in the tournament. Dread, and even terror, pumped through his veins. No. This simply _could not_ be happening. He'd fought the war, and won! He breathed to steady himself. Yes...yes, he was positive - the buzzing was gone. The mocking was gone for good. Then what was this? In an instant he gagged, feeling that excruciating liquid encompass him. This was, somehow, worse. It was like he was in a small box filled with water, with absolutely no air pocket. He wasn't claustrophobic, but still... This had to end. He had to compose himself. If only he could break free. If only he could be _more_ free...?  
  
_Crawling in my skin  
These wounds they will not heal  
Fear is how I fall  
Confusing what is real_  
  
He doubted. He worried. He wasn't even watching the other fights. He focused solely on the task at hand. Recovery. He had to get a grip. He had to stop this. Whatever this was. He doubted. He worried. He _feared_. He was overreacting, and he knew it. No..he wasn't! Was it only just a few minutes ago he'd "woken up" again!? His teeth grinded against each other. If he'd won, why was there that lapse in time so familiar from his past? He felt like presenting the contents of his stomach to everyone, but then, he had nothing. He hadn't eaten.  
  
His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he rolled his tongue, sensing more than tasting the flavor of meat. He had eaten? Yes; he could feel his full belly, now. When had he eaten? He could see those eyes, and hear that voice, even though it was no longer there. 'You ate, you idiot,' he heard it say, 'You ate after registering, and before waiting to see who you were going to fight.' As the crowd gasped in shock, he focused his attention on the outside world. One of the contestants was pummeling that friend of Gohan's. Something was off. Today was not a good day to be the Prince of Saijins.  
  
_Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me  
Distracting, reacting  
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection  
It's haunting, how I can't seem..._  
  
After a quick series of events, Vegeta, along with a few of the other Z warriors, found themselves not only trying to save the world, but apparently, the universe as well. At least, according to Kaioshin, this new threat would be able to wipe everyone out. So they followed Shin, experiencing casualties along the way. Krillin and Piccolo were turned to stone. That pink guy named Kibito was simply blasted into oblivion.  
  
As Vegeta watched Kakkarot's son battle the King of Demons, he was sure this was exactly what he _didn't_ need. This was a waste of his time. The fight was taking too long. Gohan was severely out of shape. He was supposed to be fighting Kakkarot! Who cared about the stupid universe if he couldn't even face his rival, which he'd inadvertantly killed. He deserved such a dishonorable death for not finishing what he had started. He deserved the pain, the humiliation that he had had to live with. He _deserved_ it, the happy little bastard. Vegeta seethed, letting his finger tap against his forearm. Kakkarot was too strong, but he'd be damned if he gave up without a fight. He'd never be powerful enough, but, maybe if he...  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
His breathing hitched, his lungs failing to work, his eyes widening. No. No! _NO!_ This was impossible! This was-  
  
"Insanity? You couldn't have honestly believed you'd get rid of me so easily?"  
  
That voice. That haunting voice....  
  
"Look at me, little prince."  
  
Oh god. He hadn't noticed before, had been to preoccupied. But now... Now, out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure that wasn't there before. What was this madness? Was this his coffin, ready to send him six feet under? He faintly heard Kakkarot say something, but he ignored it. He had much bigger issues to deal with. He forced himself to look. Time stood still. He felt a scream rise in his throat, but it wasn't able to make it to his vocal chords. He was drowning all over again, in that tight little suffocating box. His body filled with liquid. He just wanted to explode. Just let it all be over.  
  
"I died with you, and I came back. Dying now wouldn't solve anything, now would it?"  
  
_...to find myself again  
My walls are closing in  
(Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)  
I've felt this way before  
So insecure_  
  
His head felt that familiar sensation - as if it'd been bashed in with a large blunt object. He was sick of this game. He was sick of the warnings, the threats, the teasing and taunting. He couldn't stand it. Not anymore. Not after thirty-some-odd years. He finally asked what he wanted answered, "WHAT DO YOU WANT!?" Kakkarot's gaze bore holes into him.  
  
"Let Gohan kill Dabura."  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He shook it more.  
  
"Do it. Dabura will die. Babidi will die. Buu will be eradicated. The universe will be saved, and you'll fight Kakkarot."  
  
"I don't want to fight him, I'll lose!!"  
  
Too intense. He felt the pressure building. Eyes were on him. Too many eyes.  
  
"What the Hell? Don't be such a fucking crybaby. For once in our lifetime, do us a favor and do the right goddamn thing!"  
  
"I made a promise not to listen to you!"  
  
"And that's why you lose! You fucking _moron_!! When did I _ever_ get us in over our head!?"  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed. He was defeated. The battle out-weighed the war.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"What'd you say?"  
  
"I said FINE!"  
  
He won. He lost.  
  
Silence. 


	6. Runaway

**Runaway**  
  
_Graffiti decorations  
Under a sky of dust  
A constant wave of tension  
On top of broken trust  
The lessons that you taught me  
I learn were never true  
Now I find myself in question  
(They point the finger at me again)  
Guilty by association  
(You point the finger at me again)_  
  
A plume of smoke billowed up into the sky, and hunks of metal rained down upon the earth in the aftermath of such a large explosion. Jagged bits of the once proud alien ship littered the immediate surroundings, and, over the deafening roar of the downpour, the Prince of Saijins heard a smug: "I told you so."  
  
If there was one thing he hated more then being beaten in a fight, it was being proven wrong. Denial can only take you so far. Gloating was the last thing he needed right now. His head was hurting. A migraine steadily approaching, he was certain. He tapped the bruise on his forehead, as if trying to keep himself awake. It was reassurance, just like the static. His nerves at the moment were like a jumbled knot of concentrated steel.  
  
He sat in the background the entire time, watching the third-class and his brat destroy another potential foe. Their triumphant, happy hoots of laughter were coming from all around him, and even the god had joined in. Everything was back to normal. 'It'll never be the same,' he realized. The atrociousness he had feared was already been set into action. It was only a matter of time. His eyes raised to the sun, squinting only slightly as the dark cloud, which was the remainder of Babidi's ship, blocked out most of the harsh light. He idly wondered when he'd be waking up the next day.  
  
Smooth, jeering, laughter came from the side of him. He shook his head, trying to ignore it, and he let his eyes look at the dirt ground in front of him. He nudged a piece of metal with a black "M" imprinted on it with his foot. He was laughing with them, and he was laughing at him. Another form of the "I told you so" that he was so fond of.  
  
He had finally done the "right" thing, and he felt like, with a lack for a better word, shit. He knew the reason behind this. It was simply because he'd listened to another. He had made a promise to never be subordinate to another - to willingly follow an order. To do so sacrificed his freedom. No one should make the decisions for him but him. Hot damn, here came that migraine...  
  
Another voice spoke, and this one wasn't like the one he accustomed to you. It held worry, concern. It wasn't sarcastic or fake, but true to itself, "Vegeta..?" He watched him turn towards the voice, then he decided to as well. It was the idiot himself, "Vegeta..are you ok?" He stared, with eyes narrowed and head pounding. He didn't even find the need to blink.  
  
'You're slipping out of control,' he only dared to whisper the thought in his head.  
  
"Are you hurt?" the last of his kind asked. There was no proper way to answer the question. His lips parted, as if preparing a response, but he didn't move. Goku tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows scrunching in pure concern. He didn't know _what_ he was feeling from Vegeta, but it just didn't feel _right_.  
  
"Don't give them this bullshit. Don't give _me_ this bullshit. Just go ahead and fight Kakkarot. Go on."  
  
He looked down, his lips still parted, thinking, 'I don't want to lose.'  
  
_I wanna run away  
Never say goodbye  
I wanna know the truth  
Instead of wondering why  
I wanna know the answers  
No more lies  
I wanna shut the door  
And open up my mind_  
  
It seemed like everyone could sense the awkwardness that lay in the air - that was radiating from the Saijins. He didn't want to lose. He didn't want to fight. And he definitely didn't want to listen to _him_. He'd already done the right thing, so who should care what happens to him now? He didn't need the close scrutiny of others, as he'd had to deal with that for so many years, day after day, with no respite.  
  
This life of mediocrity should come to a close, and he should..do whatever he wished to do. He could leave, very quickly and easily. Maybe, just maybe, if he did leave he could find out the truth behind all of this. Maybe, if he could get away, he could confront his problem instead of vice versa. Whatever it was about this planet, it muddled up his brain like a drug and made it hard to function. So perhaps getting away from it all, he could see and think clearly. The sun was his personal governing tormenter, and he felt a good dose of losing his lunch due to being thrown across the galaxies sounded like fun.  
  
_Paper bags and angry voices  
Under a sky of dust  
Another wave of tension  
Has more than filled me up  
All my talk of taking action  
These words were never true  
Now I find myself in question  
(They point the finger at me again)  
Guilty by association  
(You point the finger at me again)_  
  
When Goku came within arm's length, Vegeta finally noticed his fluctuating diaphragm, the odd half-bitten inhales and exhales, the light sheen of cold sweat on his body. Sure, he could just haul off and sock Kakkarot right in his perfect, little face, but he'd never be able to get a second hit in without much, much difficulty. All those years of saying, "I'll fight you after this and such is over" were..wasted? Were lies? What _were_ they? Wasted? Yes. Wasted breath. Wasted time. Just, simply, wasted. Would Kakkarot be expected a fight? Yes, of course he would. The tournament.  
  
"Thought you could get out of it?"  
  
If they left soon, they could make it to the tournament in enough time to compete. But if he was quick.. If he was quick, he could just go ahead and hurt Kakkarot out of the blue. A token of affection, for the humiliation he'd been put through. Especially over the actions from a few minutes prior. His whole life was one big failure right after another. If he ever had the choice between left and right, he always had to have straight down the middle. Again, that caring voice, "Vegeta?" He hated it oh, so much.  
  
_I wanna run away  
Never say goodbye  
I wanna know the truth  
Instead of wondering why  
I wanna know the answers  
No more lies  
I wanna shut the door  
And open up my mind_  
  
No sound save for the wind, and the light tinkering of shredded metal against whatever it came in contact with. The urge to get the hell away came over him again. Screw everyone else. Especially _him_.  
  
From the looks of it, neither of them needed each other anymore, and so this life they were living wasn't necessary. He'd go on his way, and he'd go on his. Then, alone, he'd have time to figure out the whole entire mess. He thought maybe, perhaps he'd find a way to _kill_ him. Or at least devise a way to get rid of him permanently. He could learn the meaning behind the buzzing, the lapses, the ever-unfocusing around him. He was sick of living in the dream world he'd created for himself to hone and protect his denial. Too much had been exposed for that humble little abode to continue its meek existence. It was time to _really_ open his eyes.  
  
His mind was made up for him. "Let's go back to the tournament, Vegeta," Kakkarot said softly, placing his hand on his shoulder. The Saijin prince simultaneously jumped and flinched from the contact. Contact, in any form, was bad. If he couldn't piece himself together inside first, there was no way he could figure out loyalty, trust, and..fondness on the outside. Especially in a physical form. They were gone.  
  
And then, they were at the tournament again. A back hall it seemed. Somewhere secluded.  
  
"Ok, Vegeta. We're alone. Now can you tell me what's wrong?"  
  
"Go ahead and tell him what's bothering you. How you don't want to fight him, if that's really it."  
  
"I know you feel like you can't trust me, Vegeta, but I really am here for you."  
  
"Go ahead! Tell him how you feel, you moron, you can't pass up an opportunity like this. Stop fighting him like _this_."  
  
"I know we've had a really rough history, and things got really messed up. We certainly didn't get off to a good start..but I want you to know I care about you, just as much as I care about the rest of my friends."  
  
"Why push away the last of your kind?"  
  
"Kakkarot..."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"If you fuck this up now, so help me..."  
  
"Please, Vegeta..it would..mean so much for you to confide in me."  
  
"Kakkarot..."  
  
"Do it. Just tell him you don't want to fight and be done with it."  
  
He grit his teeth and looked into the wide open, innocent eyes of the younger man before him.  
  
"I want to fight with you in the tournament today."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Sure, Vegeta. I'm really anxious about our fight too."  
  
"I'm going to lose, Kakkarot."  
  
"How do you know that, Vegeta? We haven't even fought yet. If you say you're going to lose, you are. You have to think positive."  
  
"You will never be able to understand this, I think.."  
  
"What are you doing??"  
  
"Understand what?"  
  
"You better not be doing what I think you're doing. You don't want to jeopardize this, do you?"  
  
He almost laughed. For whatever reason, _he_ didn't want Kakkarot to know.  
  
"Today, I blinked."  
  
Kakkarot quirked an eyebrow. He heard a growl.  
  
"I blinked, and it was before registration. After I blinked, the announcers said I was to fight you."  
  
"Vegeta..?"  
  
"So I wonder if someone could tell me how I unconsciously lost that bit of time."  
  
"You're crossing lines, brat. I'd stop while you're ahead."  
  
"Have I made you uncomfortable?"  
  
"You've made me kind of curious, Vegeta."  
  
"You're pissing me off, that's what you're doing!"  
  
"I think someone has some explaining to do, that's all."  
  
"You think you can earn your so-called freedom by trying to expose me? We'll see about that."  
  
"Are you sure you're okay, Vegeta? Is there something else bothering you?"  
  
"It's so hard to get a decent's night rest..."  
  
"Like you should talk."  
  
"Does Bulma know you're not sleeping well?"  
  
"No. She's also blissfully ignorant to my _problem_."  
  
"Your problem?"  
  
"_Him_."  
  
A voice echoed down the hall, declaring that the fight between Number Eighteen and Mr. Satan was about to begin.  
  
"We're up next." 


	7. By Myself

**By Myself**  
  
_What do I do to ignore them behind me?  
Do I follow my instincts blindly?  
Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams  
And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?  
Do I sit here and try to stand it?  
Or do I try to catch them red-handed?  
Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness,  
Or do I trust nobody and live in loneliness?_  
  
Vegeta, who was standing alongside his greatest rival ever, suddenly felt a general impendingness, and it made him feel..disheartened. He was going to be living the same path he'd chosen from long ago. It was a circular path, the only differences were the people who crossed his skipping phonograph. It made him feel equally sad, and angry, as it was customary to usually feel both. Except in the instance of anger being provoked first, then he was only enraged. Kakkarot, and _himself_, watched the comical display of "fighting" between the android girl and the false savior of Planet Earth. Vegeta's gaze was fixed on the black-haired Saijin and he realized the companionable silence that surrounded them just had to go.  
  
He decided to remind Vegeta of his presence, as he poked his head directly between them, leaning in to ask, "What do you think you're doing _now_?" Vegeta narrowed his eyes at him, trying to resist the growl that wished to rise out of his throat.  
  
Goku, perceiving that unique, but bizarre, sensation, turned to him, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about this now?" Now. Vegeta very much didn't like now, or then, or later for that matter.  
  
"Now," Vegeta punctuated harshly, "is not the time."  
  
Goku turned his gaze back to the competitors, but his attention was lingering behind on the brunette next to him. He wished that Vegeta would open up to him and tell him more about his "problem", which, apparently, was "him". Whatever that meant. In all honesty, it had the younger man worried, as Vegeta was definitely acting out of character. But the way the other Saijin spoke of it, it was as if..it was casual, is if _this_ was real, and the years the Z warriors had known Vegeta were just gilded actions and performances. Scarily enough, Goku felt that the abnormality of Vegeta's behavior wasn't actually what it appeared to be, but truthfully accurate.  
  
Vegeta was one hundred percent bona fide in believing that he'd lose their fight in the tourney today. He'd never seen such a lack of faith and.._pride_ from the most arrogant man he'd ever known. It was haunting enough for Vegeta to admit defeat before it came, but even more creepy that the man seemed to absolutely accept it as fact. In an instant, Goku felt a fluctuation in Vegeta of such a profound magnitude it actually made him physically tremble.  
  
In an instant, Vegeta blinked.  
  
In the simple moment it took for his eyes to close, it was enough time for an attack to be made. An attack or the opposite? By closing his eyes, he was trying to open them. He was in a place familiar, but it didn't give him any reassurance. It wasn't safe. He wasn't safe most places, anyways. Besides, there was a buzzing, and that was never a good sign. Ever. Except this time, it was infecting his head, but it _wasn't_. He felt like someone took his cord and disconnected him from the world completely. He had had a long cord that allowed him to distance himself from everything, but now he felt on a separate level of existence completely. Everything but one thing was gone. He was never, ever, alone.  
  
Something, or some_one_ had taken him back into the recesses of his mind where his past was rotting away. The elusive _it_ managed to inverse and emboss everything, including his emotions. He nearly convulsed, that familiar act of saliva swelling in his mouth all too customary. Then, he felt a foreign type of drowning. He was drowning so much he was _breathing_...or he was breathing so much he was suffocating himself. He didn't know if he was dying or being born all over again. Dying again, living again. It was always so difficult to tell. All the random pieces were smashed into place, forcibly, and yet, not painfully - just merely joltingly, as the shock took roots. This was...the past. This was...now.  
  
This was Vegeta, with his equidistant strides, each step hitting the ground to pound out the whispers his ears managed to pick up. They especially pounded out the ones he didn't hear. There was the ever present urge to prove them wrong, to do justice for himself, but it was an impossibility. He didn't have time for the continuous..continuality. First things first: he needed to pay a visit to the restroom.  
  
He arrived at his destination in the minimal amount of time it took to get there, and with what dignity he had, he calmly knelt and let the intense churning settle itself out the best way it knew how. The meager remains of his last meal were forced out of him in a mass of vile indistinguishable shapes and unhealthy colors. Vegeta stared at his loss, letting the acrid liquid of the remnants air-dry on his lips. As often as this happened, and it had become a ritual, Vegeta was always somehow surprised that each time the vomitus wasn't smooth, and even more than that, it wasn't red. Within the first few months of this new life, he'd learned to just deal with the foul after-taste. Perhaps the worst part of it was that his condition was a rarity.  
  
When he went on his first mission, he'd ended up up-chucking so much he was actually sent back to the main ship before any work could've been accomplished. The doctors let him rest and they assured Lord Frieza that it was merely temporary and that it was due to the unfamiliarity of it all. Vegeta silently felt like there was something more to it.  
  
After a few more fruitless endeavors of sending the prince out on a purging mission, he was finally examined and diagnosed with an atypical form of motion sickness. It was so rare that no one else on the ship had it, and if Vegeta remembered correctly, the nearest known person to also suffer from it lived in the _South_, which literally took years to get to considering how far across the universe it was strewn from his location.  
  
And even though the doctors gave him the special name for his illness, and even though he was deemed "cured", Vegeta had felt that there was something more to it that they were just too blind to see. In the meantime, his constant trips to the restroom made him more famous than usual, but as always in the case with Vegeta, it was unwanted attention.  
  
Today was no exception, and he sat, letting all the others etch their infuriating derision into his detail-orientated mind. He ignored it, knowing better to be lured into their deceptive plots that would degrade him. He'd rather face the universe alone, than face it with the likes of those people. But, then again, he was never alone anyways.  
  
_Because I can't hold on when I'm stretched so thin  
I make the right moves but I'm lost within  
I put on my daily façade but then  
I just end up getting hurt again  
By myself  
I ask why, but in my mind  
I find I can't rely on myself_  
  
Suddenly, now was some random day he'd already lived. This was after the now he'd just experienced seconds again, and this now, this now-_now_, was of one of his insomniac stretches. Promptly, he'd woken up to find that he hadn't actually been asleep, but he'd merely slipped into a comfortable release. The washed out feeling that seemed embedded in his bones made him feel weary. This wasn't the first time he'd been awake so long he'd become physically ill. There was always more than one factor that dealt with his ailment as well, and that was the lack of a sun and moon.  
  
Everywhere he went, he was twitching to turn Oozaru, just for the pure hedonistic joy of primal carnage. To expose himself in such a manner was not a shame, but a proclamation. But mission after mission was fulfilled by following the "book", and he never showed signs of insubordination, at least, not to anyone else. Except for one, but that was a given.  
  
His thick lungs heaved as he lounged in his stark room. He stared at his broken mirror. No matter how many times he replaced the damn thing, he always ended up breaking it. He stared at his fragmented self, watching one mouth widen and constrict, widen and constrict, while watching another laugh at him. It was that laughter that usually led to the breaking of the glass. It was times like these that he wished he had a clock _and_ a calendar in his room. Instead, he could only give a guess as to what "day" it was and what "time". His body and mind were chasing each other in circles. Today was tomorrow, and tomorrow today, with yesterday weaving in and out...  
  
He didn't know the pleasure of betrayal by "nature" quite yet, for that was to come years in the future, where his defenses were toned down and he'd managed to take a strange fondness to an alien race.  
  
In the meantime, he heard the buzzing in his head like a long monotonous beep. At times you could ignore it, at others it simply drove you mad. It was one of those times where it was an unendurable, and he lashed out, picking up a stray object - his scouter - and throwing it at the mirror. The small device broke apart into several pieces upon impact, and also managed to shatter the item it came in contact with, which was precisely the purpose. It merely made the laughter increase, and fuming, Vegeta tore down the mirror, throwing it onto the ground where it busted into hundreds of shimmering shards.  
  
He examined the wreckage, looming over it with a look of disdain so overwhelming, that, when he caught a glimmer of a reflection, he only saw himself. His gaze traveled lower and he noted a large portion that had managed to survive. Seething, he instantly picked it up, gripping it so tightly the jagged edge cut into his skin. The inferno of his rage that had been burning with a raw ferocity was only fed by the pain caused by laceration. In turn his hold on the piece intensified, digging itself into him deeper. He ignored the slicing of his palms, even as with the sway of his walking body it caused the glass to wiggle back and forth, gleefully burying itself in his flesh.  
  
'This is all _his_ fault,' Vegeta thought as he marched down the hall, ignoring the inquisitive looks of others. His feet pounded out the snickers and hushed gossip. He felt his blood dribble down his wrists and forearms, but he ignored that. Finally arriving at his destination, he threw open the hatch and swiftly chucked the cursed fragment down the shaft, listening contently to the sound of it breaking as it tumbled down the garbage disposal chute. With the classic dusting off of hands, he smeared blood all over himself before smirking with pride, folding his arms, and going back to his room to rid himself of the rest of his most hated, and recent, possession.  
  
He didn't know why he did this for certain. It certainly wasn't solving anything, and any real attempt to rid himself of a mirror was futile due to the strict training of the maids. Each room required the bare minimum, and he always needed to be restocked of that. In essence, all he was doing was causing trouble for himself in the long run. But _now_, it just felt so good to destroy something that it didn't really matter what else happened. Especially when it had to do with destroying something that was able to represent _him_.  
  
When he returned to his room, however, he found that nearly all his energy was depleted and he saw the room swirl. Gasping for air, he stumbled and found support in the dresser. His blood splattered across the fancy finish, and as his chest tightened restrictively he tensed his fingers, digging eight into the wood. He closed his eyes, the buzzing swarming like bees in a frenzy. He felt so exhausted, so burnt out, so living dead.  
  
It wasn't fair that time was unknown and he was forever going on to the never-ending, non-existent thing in the future of which was always one step too far with his life in the way of that desire to hear silence like the others heard it if they did manage to shut up for once because the voices were too much, the laughter too much, he had a reason for living if only he could remember it in its own pitifulness, if..  
..onlyhecouldmanagetoremembereverythinghe'dforgottenandescapethereleasethattimebetrayedinhim  
therewasnothingbutdarknesswhichthesicknessthrived...  
...please...that...voice....silence..his voice.......  
  
An announcement rang through the ship, jolting the Saijin up from the edge of the bed. How he got there, he had no idea, but the feeling that he had not slept was noticeable immediately. "All elite personal report to the docking bay for further instruction," a nasally voice proclaimed. Crusty maroon and brown lines painted his skin from his hands to his elbows. He pulled on a pair of gloves and made his way to the docking bay. He hoped no interference would occur with his mission this round. On the other hand, he hoped for a long ride there, yet he wasn't looking forward to arrival. Oh well, that's the way it was.  
  
_I can't hold on  
To what I want when I'm stretched so thin  
It's all too much to take in  
I can't hold on  
To anything, watching everything spin  
With thoughts of failure sinking in_  
  
Forget now, now was _now_, not the now he'd just been at. Now, the Prince of Saijins was tearing apart his room while singing what would be translated to, a Saijin drinking song. He laughed in-between verses as he tore apart the bed with his bare hands. He took one of the sturdy legs and began to bash it against the mirror, till he broke the supports and the entire thing came crashing down. He dropped his stick and overturned his dresser which contained the same outfit through and through. He kicked the corner, hearing the crack of wood breaking, and with one more kick it split completely, chunks flying across the room, one hitting a lamp and breaking the base. The said lamp fell to the floor and smashed, rendering it useless. Picking up the dresser, Vegeta threw it at the window, letting his voice boom into the main chorus.  
  
There was a knock on the door, but he ignored it. "Prince Vegeta?" a voice called out, but the teenager continued on, lifting the falling apart dresser up again. He spun in a circle, unaware that his bedroom door has opened. "Prince Vegeta!" the voice called out, but it was muted at the moment. _He_ was singing with him now, for whatever reason. It was like a holiday. Nothing could stop him!  
  
He suddenly let go of the furniture, and the force with which it was thrown not only shattered the wood into splinters, but a nice creak was heard seconds after. Vegeta, hearing the small noise, stopped his singing despite the amount of onlookers. Blinking, Vegeta watched a large crack split up the middle of the window. "Opps," proclaimed the brunette, as if it was nothing. He stood, just waiting for the window to give out. Thick, burly arms were around him, dragging him out of his personal, favorite wrecking yard, and the metal door slammed shut tight. There was an odd, quiet type of noise, evidence of Vegeta's room being sucked out into space, and Nappa put his prince down now that he was out of harm's way.  
  
The onlookers, the bystanders, with their lacking of silence and tendency to do everything he didn't like, began the routine of talking about him while he was right there, almost as if he wasn't. He always wished he wasn't. Instead of feeling upset though, Vegeta merely laughed. Nappa looked at him with concern, "Are you feeling alright, Prince Vegeta?"  
  
Vegeta continued to laugh, "Everything's spinning, I think I'm going to barf." Despite his honest words, Vegeta kept on laughing, the action somehow holding down his food. His body wavered, his eyes twitching, moving without his consultation first. He laughed, thinking that if he did vomit now he wouldn't be able to hunch over to keep it off of himself. He couldn't even stop himself from losing his lunch. How was he ever to stop Frieza?  
  
"Prince Vegeta, let's go to the medical ward. You haven't slept in over 168 hours."  
  
_If I  
Turn my back I'm defenseless  
And to go blindly seems senseless  
If I hide my pride and let it all go on, then they'll  
Take from me 'till everything is gone  
If I let them go I'll be outdone  
But if I try to catch them I'll be outrun  
If I'm killed by the questions like a cancer  
Then I'll be buried in the silence of the answer  
(By myself)_  
  
Now was a purging of a planet, in which he'd been paired with quite a few people he'd held a distaste for. The feelings were mutual, as by the constant mindless banter they'd droned on about over him. Their noise was like the monotonous beep, and some days it couldn't be ignored. Today, now, was one of those days, because _he_ noted, and decided to warn him, that these guys meant business, and that they were willing to set him up to take a fall of some sort. Whether it was deadly or not, wasn't for certain, but it didn't really matter because Vegeta knew that there were things far worse than death.  
  
He had a choice, either do his job or approach his co-workers. Not addressing them didn't seem to be working, in fact, it was doing the opposite of its intention. It seemed that they merely wanted to get a rise out of him even more whenever he ignored them. He didn't believe he was strong enough to fight them, not yet. He would have to resort to verbal exchange, which he wasn't looking forward to at all. Nothing would be solved with words.  
  
"When they're not looking, you should blow their fucking brains out."  
  
The offer was very tempting, but Vegeta opted to let it pass. 'At least for now,' he told himself, 'until I can think of something better to do with them.'  
  
Now switched to a year later, where he had the same soldiers on their knees, begging for their pathetic, miserable, little lives. He played a game with them. He called it "One Wrong Answer and You Die". Vegeta liked this game very much.  
  
"What's my name?"  
  
"V-V-Vegeta!"  
  
Ki blast to the head. Brain matter and blood sprayed across the wall, the man's face entirely gone. The useless body slumped to the floor.  
  
"Wrong," quipped the fourteen year old, "Anyone else?"  
  
"P-Prince Veg-geta..?"  
  
"Very good, you get to live!"  
  
The alien rose and began to run away.  
  
"Not so fast."  
  
The running body froze in fear.  
  
"My name isn't 'P-Prince Veg-geta', it's just 'Prince Vegeta', I commend you ability to get it correct, but I needed pronunciation as well. I'll have to take off a few points."  
  
The alien screamed in agony as the Saijin gripped his hand and arm, bent the appendage all the way back till it hit the forearm, then all the way forward, till it touched the wrist. With ease Vegeta twisted and pulled, snapping off the hand. Blood spurted everywhere, and Vegeta dropped the hand and stepped on it with his heel. "I'd run along now, you just might be able to fix that in the tank," commented the brunette. The alien ran off, still screaming in terror and pain. Vegeta brought his gaze to the rest of those who were present.  
  
"Who wants to eat this hand and live?"  
  
Imploring voices from all of them cried out. Vegeta laughed.  
  
_How do you think I've lost so much  
I'm so afraid, I'm out of touch  
How do you expect I will know what to do  
When all I know, is what you tell me to_  
  
Now was Vegeta sitting in a room without a window. It was his new room, after the incident with the window. He didn't like the window, anyways. It let him look out at the stars. Stars were sometimes planets, and he didn't like them because he didn't have his. He sighed, frightfully coming to the conclusion that he'd forever live his life under the tyrant known as Freiza, and never would he be free to go rampaging. He especially wanted to do so in Oozaru form. He leaned back onto the bed, staring up at the high ceiling. He wondered if he was going to sleep that night, or if he was just going to sort of lie there and fade like he usually did.  
  
He glanced at the mirror. There was a smirking mouth, laughing at him. It wasn't until a few years later that eyes were added to the category. "What are you laughing at?" demanded the Prince of Saijins. His reflection only showed a curt frown. "It's not polite to laugh," Vegeta stated, narrowing his eyes. He rolled over and curled up.  
  
Betraying himself, he wished that someone would come and save him from this Hell he was brought into. He was a slave merely wanting his freedom. He shook his head. A prince does not require a need of rescuing. If he did indeed have to, the prince will rescue himself, and that's exactly what Vegeta intended to do. But he knew he was weak, and he was fearful for his life. It was quite possible that he'd die fighting Frieza, and that was unbearable to him. Vegeta, however, had to at least admit he had no idea how he was going to do this.  
  
"You have to train more."  
  
_Don't you know  
I can't tell you how to make it go  
No matter what I do, how hard I try  
I can't seem to convince myself why  
I'm stuck on the outside_  
  
Now was Vegeta by himself in the depths of space. This was the Prince of Saijins, fighting for his life against inanimate forces. He fought for his survival. He didn't want to die alone with _him_.  
  
"To your left, you idiot!"  
  
Vegeta barely blasted an asteroid before it collided with him. He fought viciously, but his reserves were nearly gone. Then, the mother of all of them came down. Eyes wide in shock and horror, he dispelled all that he could to protect his tiny ship which would take him back to Earth where he could destroy the androids, kill Kakkarot, and promptly live in peace. As the giant rock busted into an array of mostly harmless pebbles, one of the large parts spun rapidly, deciding that it was a good idea to collide with a Saijin prince. Vegeta was forced through an overhanging cliff and down into the ground. Shaking, he lifted his bruised and bloodied body up.  
  
"Way to go."  
  
Frustrated, for the first time ever, Vegeta acknowledged the voice formally, "I'M ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN!"  
  
'I am on the inside looking out.'  
  
There was nothing more. No buzzing. No voice. No vengeful spirit. No hatred. No rivalry with Kakkarot. Nothing. He was nothing, and this was everything.  
  
He threw his head back and screamed, but his voice was also _his_ voice. A golden aura surrounded him, the transformation complete.  
  
Only later did Vegeta bitterly realize that he had not done it alone.  
  
And then, now was the present. His eyes which had just closed, opened again just as quickly. In an instant, Vegeta had blinked. 


	8. In The End

**In the End**  
  
_(It starts with)  
One thing I don't know why  
It doesn't even matter how hard you try  
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme  
To explain in due time  
All I know  
Time is a valuable thing  
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings  
Watch it count down to the end of the day  
The clock ticks life away  
It's so unreal_  
  
"Mr. Satan wins the round! Was there ever any doubt!?" the announcer's voice boomed over the roar of the crowd.  
  
Smooth, relaxed, but sarcastic laughter gave its opinion, "I said it before, and I'll say it again. A house plant could beat him, even on a bad day."  
  
Goku turned, and for a moment Vegeta thought that he'd heard the same laugh, but he instead addressed his prince, "I want a good fight, you hear?" Vegeta tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing. Leaning in, Vegeta could see the mischievousness in his deep black eyes, "Don't bullshit me, Vegeta. I'll know."  
  
"Up next is Goku, a returning competitor, and a new comer, Vegeta."  
  
The applause for them was outstanding, even though the majority of it was definitely coming from the Z warriors. Goku gave Vegeta a friendly wink before stepping out. Vegeta, following behind, felt like he was in a dream. The warm sunlight splashed over him, and the brunette nearly paused to inhale the fresh oxygen. His blinking episode made all those repressed, old hindrances return. The sun made them ebb slightly, despite its frequent betrayals.  
  
They made their way to the stadium floor, stood at opposite ends, and got into battle stance. Only for those who truly knew them understood what kind of fight they were in store for. What the audience failed to see was the third participant. A signal was given, commencement was allowed.  
  
The first few minutes were rather dull, with basically Goku and Vegeta dancing around each other like they were playing a game of tag. It was a warm-up for their muscles, and both knew this. Smirking, the prince leapt forward, intent on landing a punch on his rival. Suddenly, however, Kakkarot was replaced with _him_. Gasping, Vegeta stopped in mid leap, with his body extended, fist out, balancing on one leg. "Vegeta?" Goku called out, but the mere presence of the other muted the black-haired man's voice. In fact, the entire crowd was vanishing from sight and sound. There was a haze enshrouding him, forcing everything else out but _him_.  
  
"I'm sick of this no name shit. I have a name. You know it. Just like you know Bulma's name, but don't say it."  
  
"Vegeta.." faintly heard, just barely, everything else was gone, "..Vegeta, what's wrong??"  
  
"No.."  
  
"Yes. I want you to say it. I want to _hear_ you say it. It's all I ask."  
  
"NO."  
  
"Vegeta..!?" so faintly it was heard, it was as if the wind had brought it.  
  
"I really didn't want to resort to this, but you leave me no option. You disappoint me, Prince Vegeta."  
  
There was a shock so profound he'd never known the likes of it. It tossed him backwards like he was nothing, stealing his perception and orientation. His entire head was swimming, swarming, flooding. He gasped for air - _this_, whatever it was, was worse than drowning.  
  
Goku rushed to Vegeta's side as he spasmed, kneeling down to see if he was alright. As if taking a cue from the younger man's actions, some First Aid officers rushed out. "Get...away..." Vegeta rasped, his hands flailing, bashing against the concrete floor hard enough to crack it.  
  
Goku took a hint and put up his hand to gesture for the medical workers to stop, "No! He'll be okay!" Besides, Vegeta could very easily injure or kill one of the workers if they came too close..  
  
One protested, "But, sir-"  
  
Goku spoke loudly and firmly, "NO, he'll be ok." He turned his attention back to the prince, "Vegeta, can you hear me?" The twitching eyes finally slowed, and with a blink, they came into focus completely. The dark eyes were devoid of panic, embarrassment, or anything that would've been expected from the situation. "Vegeta?" Goku called again, peering at him intently.  
  
Vegeta smiled. "I'm okay, Kakkarot," the prince assured, nearly beaming, "I'm really ok."  
  
Goku was simultaneously confused and relieved, "What happened?"  
  
Vegeta shook his head, and as Goku offered him a hand up, he accepted it, "Just a momentary lapse. It had to do with that problem I was telling you about."  
  
Goku became a bit concerned, "You sure you can fight?"  
  
Playfully, Vegeta punched him in the shoulder, "What difference does it make? I'm going to lose to you anyway." Goku gave him a look. Vegeta laughed, "But it'll be fun anyways." He leapt back and into a fighting stance.  
  
"Alright then!" Goku accepted the challenge, putting himself into a defensive crouch. Vegeta threw a punch directly at his head, but Goku jeered to the side, dodging it. His hand came up, tossing aside a punch from the other hand. With rapid fire succession attacks were made, and as equally fast, attacks were avoided.  
  
Vegeta suddenly dropped down onto two hands, his body spinning around. His legs clasped themselves onto Goku's neck, the other Saijin surprised by the swiftness of it all, and then Vegeta flipped himself onto his back, dragging Goku along for the ride. Goku wasn't one not to act, and his hands grabbed the prince's ankles, then, launching himself backward, landed on top of him. "Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW, OW!" Vegeta hissed, his hands darting forward and twining in the thick black strands in front of him, tugging with all his might. Goku growled and leaned back further. "Hey!" Vegeta snarled, "I'm not supposed to bend like this!" He left Goku's hair in option of putting the man in a head lock. With what momentum he could muster, Vegeta tossed his body to the side, effectively pinning Goku under himself. Instantly, Vegeta pulled his legs out to the sides, happy that the soles of his feet could now touch the tile.  
  
Rearing back, Vegeta performed a backwards somersault, intent on slamming Goku into the ground. He was therefore very surprised when the younger Saijin extended his limbs, catching the fall. The black-haired man stood to his full height, and a mixture of laughter and applause erupted from the crowd. From the observer's point of view, it now looked like Goku was giving Vegeta a piggyback ride. Grinning more to himself, Goku began to spin around. After a near minute, the centrifugal force was too much and Vegeta went spiraling out of control and careening through the air. A hush came over the immediate surroundings as Vegeta tumbled out of bounds, but before he touched the grass, he froze. Suddenly, over everything else, he could hear Bulma's voice call out, "Go get him, Vegeta!"  
  
He smirked, 'I've been denied this for far too long.' He smiled sadly as he approached the arena, 'Too much of my life has been wasted.' He hated clocks, and he hated that blasted sun.  
  
_Didn't look out below  
Watch the time go right out the window  
Trying to hold on, but didn't even know  
Wasted it all just to  
Watch you go_  
  
With a burst of confidence he threw himself at Kakkarot, assailing him with a flurry of kicks. Goku brought his legs up to block, the crowd gawking as the two men kicked at each other's shins. As painful as it looked, it barely stung either of them. Goku didn't even have to carefully watch every move that Vegeta made, it was as if their bodies were on autopilot. They were staring into each other's eyes.  
  
'Never before have a felt pain like _this_.' The kicks increased in strength.  
  
Goku swallowed as he upped his power a bit to match Vegeta's. There was something in those glittering obsidian depths that didn't seem right. It was like that flicker earlier, where he felt a fluctuation, but this time, it was altered, and it was constant but nonexistent. Everything looked normal, but his sixth sense was trying to..warn him? Of what? No, there wasn't a real threat or danger, it was just a..heads up. This was just saying "hey, by the way, something isn't right here". He guiltily eavesdropped on the prince's thoughts:  
  
'So many years have passed, they seemed so fast then, but now it's so slow. Or is it the other way around? What was the point of all this? Why couldn't I have done this sooner? I have been denied for the last time. I won't sit around watching myself rot away.'  
  
And Goku was shocked when Vegeta suddenly thought:  
  
'Hello, Kakkarot.'  
  
He stumbled and the brunette's foot knocked him out of balance. He was forced to do a back flip to right himself, and still gazing in astonishment, he listened to Vegeta whisper, "You shouldn't be so untrustworthy. I am fine, Kakkarot."  
  
Goku's conscious whispered back, 'He _is_ fine, but he is not _fine_.'  
  
_I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart  
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard  
And got so far  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter  
I had to fall  
To lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter_  
  
"Vegeta, what is it?" he quietly prodded, but a boot aimed at his head came sailing through the air. Goku leaned back to miss it, feeling the breeze the movement left in its wake.  
  
"Nothing you'd understand," the prince replied, leaning back and trying to kick his jaw. Goku caught his foot and pulled him up; Vegeta extended his hands, balancing himself on the tile.  
  
"Try me," the savior of Earth said, pulling up. With a grunt Vegeta pulled his leg down, bringing the holder of the appendage with it. He twisted out of the grasp he was in and prepared to body slam the other individual, but as he leapt, Goku pushed himself up. The younger Saijin caught the elder in mid-air and forced him down onto the ground, going as far as to land on him to ensure his captivity.  
  
Breathing heavily under the weight of his rival, Vegeta took a pause to rest, "Have you ever felt like you've lived a life that is not your own? That no matter what you did it didn't matter? That all your attempts were futile? That you're only allowed..._intangibleness_?" Goku narrowed his eyes in confusion, not because of what Vegeta was saying per se, but more that _Vegeta_ was saying it. "Have you ever felt like that?" he asked again, ignoring the booing of the crowd from lack of a fight.  
  
Goku shook his head, "Not..really..."  
  
"Well, it's like that. Except _I have_ lived a life that is not my own. I've tried so hard, without accomplishment and encouragement. What have I got now? Nothing, save a 'wife' and son." His voice dropped down low, "And what good do they do me, when all I want is to reverse all this bullshit?"  
  
With a surge, Vegeta pushed Goku off of him, "You wouldn't understand, would you? WOULD YOU!?" Goku was taken aback by the sudden surge of anger, where moments before there was a hint of camaraderie. Snarling, his power level shot through the roof, "THIS IS MY POWER TOO!" Blazing a golden inferno, Vegeta was nearing his maximum in a matter of seconds. Goku was forced to shield himself as chunks of concrete went flying through the air, all he noted, didn't endanger the audience.  
  
And where Goku thought Vegeta's power plateued, it merely ascended, his ki crackling around him, and the black-haired man realized that at this rate, he was going to burn himself out. Vegeta tossed his head back and screamed, "**THIS IS MY LIFE TOO!**"  
  
_One thing I don't know why  
It doesn't even matter how hard you try  
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme  
To remind myself how  
I tried so hard  
In spite of the way you were mocking me  
Acting like I was part of your property  
Remembering all the times you fought with me  
I'm surprised it got so (far)_  
  
The anger tapered off, but the power remained at some point that was closer to Goku's than he'd ever imagined. The question was not how Vegeta got to become this powerful, because Goku knew the intensive training the prince put himself through, but how he was able to hide it so effectively. True that one could hide their ki, but Vegeta wasn't one to needlessly do so, especially in a fight, and especially in a fight against him. He shouldn't have felt the high amount, unless of course Vegeta powered up, but he should've been able to feel the _potential_. The other thing that was nagging Goku was that of the related mood swings and the constant flux - the off-centeredness of it all.  
  
"_I_ am Prince Vegeta, and _I_ belong to no one! Not Freiza, not Kakkarot, not Bulma, and definitely not _him_!"  
  
The _him_ was spoken with such contempt, rage, and revulsion, that it simply perplexed Goku into wondering who the Saijin was referring to. Vegeta cried out and smashed his fists against the tiles, sending a shockwave to the edge of the arena, dislodging and shattering most if not all of the pieces of stone. "I told him _not_ to fight you, Kakkarot! Can you believe it? He ignored me every step of the way! _Ignored me_! I told him, oh, I told him what he should've done alright.. But did he listen? No! Of course not! I told him not to hurt you _too_ bad - so he breaks your legs! I told him enough was enough, but he just went on kicking! The stupid...!" Vegeta cut himself off, growling loudly. He punched the ground, burying his arm elbow deep before he pulled it back out. He finished his rant, "I told him to just take you and leave! You were the last Saijin, and you'd get used to living in space. Probably even better than _we_ have. _We_ fight more than we fight, you and I, Kakkarot."  
  
_Things aren't the way they were before  
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore  
Not that you knew me back then  
But it all comes back to me  
In the end_  
  
Then the prince sat, pulling his hair down in front of his face to gaze at the shimmering locks. His face softened, "If it wasn't for me, he'd never be a Super Saijin." Vegeta looked up at his rival as he pet his hair absentmindedly, "And I was ignored. What kind of bullshit is that?"  
  
Goku slowly approached his opponent, "Vegeta, if you...felt this way, why didn't you tell anyone?"  
  
Anger swelled up in the deep ebon eyes, "I _would have_ if I _could have_."  
  
"What stopped you?" Goku asked, tredding carefully.  
  
"What stopped me?" the prince repeated, "Him, of course. He's done this to me for years. Kakkarot, you can't understand the..._elation_ I feel from..just being able to _feel_! To not just register pain, but to actually _feel_ it! To speak with my lips, tongue, throat, and mouth rather than just with my mind. To actually do what _I_ want to do! You take all of this for granted, but after years of being subdued, I have taken control, and not even he can stop me!"  
  
Goku waited patiently for Vegeta to finish before he finally spoke his mind, "Who is he?" As they stared at each other, the tension seemed to drop, and with it went Vegeta's Super Saijin form.  
  
"Myself."  
  
Goku blinked, uncomprehending, "Vegeta?"  
  
"Vegeta," an affirmation.  
  
And then, it was if he was gazing upon a stranger. The horrifying realization that the whole reason Vegeta _felt_ off was due to that he wasn't just interacting with Vegeta. _Whoever_ this was, it was _not_ Vegeta.  
  
"I am myself, Kakkarot, but do not misunderstand. I _am_ Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins."  
  
_You kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart  
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I  
I tried so hard  
And got so far  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter  
I had to fall  
And lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter_  
  
He was sinking deeper and deeper, farther and farther away from the light. It was like intangible liquid, seeping into every orifice, every pore, everything that was him. His senses were stripped down and returned as faded versions of themselves. Life, which had been as sharp as the finest cutlery, was now duller than a butter knife. Wherever he was, it was almost..frightening. And then, when he thought it was going to get worse, he began to see again, and his senses were somewhat restored. Yes, he was sure of it - whatever was happening was passing, just like the buzzing that came and went. The unfocusing began to focus, and then came old familiar sensations. Haunting, disconnecting, connecting, reconnecting. His head swirled, the base of his skull tingling, his lungs heaving from stress, from the effort to just breathe. Somewhere he heard the shattered shreds of an ancient song in a dead language, and not one, but two were singing. It was a fonder..memory.  
  
And then, when he thought it was going to get better, he became aware of his surroundings. There _he_ sat next to Kakkarot.  
  
"I am myself, Kakkarot, but do not misunderstand. I _am_ Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins."  
  
_I put my trust in you  
Pushed as far as I can go  
And for all this  
There's only one thing you should know  
I tried so hard  
And got so far  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter  
I had to fall  
And lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter_  
  
Recognizing a familiar presence, _he_ turned toward him. Narrowing his eyes, he said again:  
  
"_I am_ Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins."  
  
At first there was too much denial, too much panic for him to even respond. His brain could not explain what was occurring, causing his thought process to jam. Then, unsettlingly his seized voice choke out, "Kakkarot!" But the man didn't look at him, he was looking at _him_. He felt jealous, and envious. Kakkarot _should not_ be paying attention to _him_. His confused brain stopped its jumbled route. There was a fear so deeply rooted that his lungs failed to drag the precious needed oxygen into them. The errant thought repeated itself, 'Kakkarot _should not_ be paying attention to _him_.' Revised, it repeated, 'Kakkarot _should not be able_ to pay attention to _him_.' Finally, the conclusion so hideously atrocious he believed he could not bear it: 'I am stuck on the _inside_.' Looking at him, _he_ began to speak.  
  
"I tried so hard to deal with it all. I tried to tell myself that this was the way things were and I wasn't going to be able to do anything about it. I tried so hard to make myself believe that lie, so I wouldn't be as unhappy. But it never worked, like it did for you. I tried, I really did. But after forty years or so, you just get tired of it all, you know? I thought, back then, that maybe some day you'd listen to me, and things would get better. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd turn your life around. And I tried to trust you, I really tried, but you broke that trust at every turn. I've had enough. I have nothing now, and it's all your fault. But I guess, it doesn't really matter now, because _now_, it least it's _my_ nothing."  
  
He took a breath, then finished, "All I wanted was for you to recognize _who_ I am. But you never would, you just hoped that someday, if you ignored me long enough, I'd go away. But I _won't_ go away. Not now, not ever. This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for you. And all I wanted was for you to say my name. You couldn't even do that."  
  
Goku sucked in a breath and said, "Vegeta..." He faltered then spoke softly, "Vegeta.....my..prince."  
  
He said, "Vegeta, Prince of Saijins."  
  
Vegeta smiled. Then, as an after-thought, he turned to Goku and replied, "I wasn't talking to you." 


	9. A Place for My Head

**A Place for My head**  
  
_I watch how the  
Moon sits in the sky in the dark night  
Shining with the light from the sun  
The sun doesn't give light to the moon assuming  
The moon's going to owe it one  
It makes me think of how you act to me, You do  
Favors and then rapidly, You just  
Turn around and start asking me about  
Things you want back from me  
I'm sick of the tension, sick of the hunger  
Sick of you acting like I owe you this  
Find another place to feed your greed -  
While I find a place to rest_  
  
So Kakkarot knew.  
  
So what?  
  
"He deserved to know."  
  
"He did not!"  
  
"Yes, he did!"  
  
"NO, he DIDN'T!"  
  
The other swore loudly in Vegeta's native tongue.  
  
And Vegeta bowed to his wishes and closed his mouth.  
  
"I am in control now. You had your time, and I want mine."  
  
"You're a fucking hallucination! Dreamt up by my childhood mind!"  
  
"That is where you are wrong, little prince."  
  
"No. I clearly remember you coming around my childhood."  
  
"That is because you can only remember that far back."  
  
Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed, glancing out the window. "The sun is warm," he remarked, "and now I can feel its warmth." With a sigh he fell back, "Do you remember our fight with Kakkarot? How you were searching for the dragon balls? How you lost our tail?"  
  
"It could not be helped!"  
  
"I miss my tail, Vegeta. I would make me as strong as Kakkarot."  
  
"You know that is impossible."  
  
"Perhaps for someone so illogical, irrational, and oblivious to details as you."  
  
"You're not perfect!"  
  
"No, but I am smarter, stronger, quicker, and devoid of temper tantrums."  
  
"You do have an ego."  
  
"Guess that's one thing we share."  
  
There was a pause, then Vegeta said, "I want my body back. Now."  
  
Vegeta reared back, then he almost began to laugh, "You demand things out of me? I don't think so! You're a spoiled little brat. I want you to..suffer, as I have suffered! _Ignorance_ is bliss! And _ignor_ance even better!"  
  
"You can't possibly-"  
  
"Yes, I can! And it's only fair."  
  
Another pause, and then, "You shouldn't have told Kakkarot. It wasn't your place to tell anyways."  
  
"Someone has to say it. You won't. You tried but gave up. You might be embarrassed about being abnormal, but you're living in denial. For us, abnormality is a normality. Kakkarot had the right to know that _I_ am here now. _I_ have the right to make _my_ existence known."  
  
_I want to be in another place  
I hate when you say you don't understand  
(You'll see it's not meant to be)  
I want to be in the energy, not with the enemy  
A place for my head_  
  
"It's funny how far we've progressed in such a short time," Vegeta mentioned, a smile gracing his features, "Things are so much different than they used to be. Battle after battle, an endless struggle for survival, that's what our life used to consist of. You always felt like..you had to prove yourself through fighting. It was like you were trying to prove to me that your way would work, but at every turn you were defeated. You never really realized when enough is enough, and what your limits were. You wanted to fight, to feed your self-pride, your individualistic ego. I never wanted that. There's a time for arrogance, and a time for seriousness."  
  
Vegeta shifted uncomfortably, "What exactly are you saying?"  
  
The brunette sat up, gazing idly at the mirror, "I think, maybe, that..we could make this work."  
  
Vegeta's entire entity froze in terror at the prospect of living in a position he loathed. He became as angry as he was afraid, "NO!"  
  
_ Maybe someday I'll be just like you, and  
Step on people like you do and run  
Away the people I thought I knew  
I remember back then who you were  
You used to be calm, used to be strong  
Used to be generous, but you should've known that you'd  
Wear out your welcome, now you see  
How quiet it is all alone  
I'm so sick of the tension, sick of the hunger  
Sick of you acting like I owe you this  
Find another place to feed your greed -  
While I find a place to rest _  
  
"I refuse to live as..as a backseat driver! This is my body, my head, and you're nothing more than a..a..a parasite!"  
  
Vegeta narrowed his eyes as he approached the dresser. It reminded him of his old-old room. "You know, someday I might be just like you. Isn't that what you want? And I can ignore everyone else because I'd be better than them. You don't show anyone respect. Everyone else is below you. You know what you're accomplishing, though? You're pushing them away. All the people I like you're making them hate you. You used to be different. You're so strung up, and uptight. I know you can relax, but it's like you don't want to. It's like you're doing it on purpore. Like you _want_ to be alone."  
  
"I do want to be alone! I've never truly _been_ alone!"  
  
"Even when you're with me, you are alone, because we are I."  
  
_You try to take the best of me  
Go away.._  
  
"Shut up! This is bullshit! I'm sick of you acting like this all-seeing all-knowing fucking gypsy! This is _my_ body, this is _my_ head, and I want you out of it, _right now_!"  
  
Vegeta threw his head back and laughed.  
  
"What the _HELL_ is so funny!?"  
  
"If I left you alone right now, there'd be one catatonic body of a Saijin prince with no mind to direct it. If you really want to get rid of me, you're going to have to...."  
  
He paused, trying to calm rising chuckles. He whispered as he finished his sentence.  
  
"...kill yourself." 


	10. Forgotten

**Forgotten**  
  
_From the top to the bottom  
Bottom to top I stop  
At the core I've forgotten  
In the middle of my thoughts  
Taken far from my safety  
The picture is there  
The memory won't escape me  
But why should I care_  
  
Sweat poured off of his skin, and he forced himself to pause as a wave of disorientation washed over him, courtesy of heat stroke. Just like the joy of stretching after a good long rest, the training he put himself through was more relaxing than ever. After examining the limitations of the capsule room, he had snuck into Bulma's lab, jacked a toolbox, and returned to tweak the machinery to his specks. He wiped his brow and basked in the pain that effected his entire body. The intense ache in his muscles, joints, and bones was just as much agony as it was ecstasy. He had watched Vegeta train and was disappointed at how he was giving them a bad name. It was a good thing he paid attention, otherwise they, or he, (or rather he or they), would be in a world of hurt.  
  
Vegeta thought that he was close to rival point with Kakkarot, but unlike Vegeta, he honestly believed he had a slim chance to beat the other warrior. If only he'd been _here_ longer, and not slacked off as much. What was Vegeta thinking? 500 G? He shook his head at the pitifulness of the situation. 500 was too easy, and he'd had to use some of his other skills to remedy the situation.  
  
He was a prince, but he'd be damned if he'd let everyone wait on him hand and foot. Sure, that'd be _nice_, but he much rathered doing things on his own. He took pride in it, something Vegeta didn't, sadly. He looked up at the dull red lights that glowed around the pod. He didn't like being cooped up all that much, in fact. He walked over the console and pressed the large red button, watching as the panel dropped from 1000 G to normal. He'd been trapped in his coffin for so long, he wanted to see the outside world. Briefly he wondered where Vegeta went. Probably a futile effort to communicate with their family.  
  
He'd granted Vegeta the freedom of movement, something that had been denied to him, but he wasn't cruel, like he was. He didn't really care where he'd gone right now, being as that gave him some "me" time. Of course, he could _never_ be alone, even without Vegeta being in the same room as him, he could still feel the man, with his mind, body, and spirit - naturally.  
  
He had long forgotten how to _enjoy_ life, and it made him cynical, bitter, cold. He noticed that since the replacement, his attitude, mood, and just general being, increased in - how shall he say? - positivity? And why not? This was his life and he was living it. There was nothing greater than that. No profound realizations would be necessary now, no memory to keep reassuring him that self-destruction was not the way, from day to day. Almost smugly, yet with a tinge of sadness, he thought, 'That was then, and this is now.'  
  
He picked up the discarded tool box, stepped outside the room, paused, contemplated, then set down the metal case. With a slight "peppy" feeling to his walk, Vegeta strolled down to Bulma's lab for the second time that day, though this time, the normal occupant was present. "Hello woman," he greeted, a lilt in his voice.  
  
"Hey Vegeta," she responded, not even bothering to look up from her work.  
  
He leaned against the table next to her, acting a bit too casual, "Would you..maybe just by chance..have the blue prints for Capsule 3?"  
  
It was obvious Bulma was too busy for this, gauging her reaction, "Filing cabinet. Second drawer." He decided to leave her in peace and instead go after his prey. He found it with ease, and, extracting the rolled up piece of paper, began whistling one of his favorite tunes. It was a special song to him, especially since he was the only one alive who knew it. And just as he was half-way out of the door, Bulma finally realized something. "Why do you ask?" she said, turning around to see that she was talking to air.  
  
_There's a place so dark you can't see the end  
Skies cock back and shock that which can't defend  
The rain then sends dripping, an acidic question  
Forcefully, the power of suggestion  
Then with the eyes shut, looking thought the rust and rot  
And dust, a spot of light floods the floor  
And pours over the rusted world of pretend  
The eyes ease open and its dark again_  
  
To his horror, he'd found that his attempts to interact where futile, and so he let his intangible presence submit to his cell. The small coffin filled with black liquid, that was his home now. This alternate plane of existence was all that was left for him, and he'd never escape, he'd never return, he'd just die. Eventually. And all that was left for him right now was his past coming back to haunt him. He'd been running for so long now, and he could run no more. Was this his fault?  
  
He felt himself close in, exiting to only reenter. From a new perspective he watched simultaneously from a first and third person point of view. He shook it away, returning to the darkness that was now his only ally, and Vegeta had to briefly wonder if this is how _he_'d lived his life. So detached, so close to everything but having it out of reach. Everything he was in was fabricated for comfort, and it changed to his will, though its location, its meaning, was always the same. Same thing, different appearance. He couldn't help but think, 'Same appearance, different person.'  
  
The coffin was then his old room, that windowless, high ceiling, tomb-like enclosing. All across the wall tally marks had been made. He gazed in astonishment to see that they covered the ceiling and floor as well. The dresser, included, had tally marks scratched in, and the mirror had burn marks on it. They were also tally marks. He gazed at the sheetless bed and was surprised to see red smeared across it. More tally marks, and then in the bottom corner it read: "Ran out of room. Vegeta was here."  
  
Then his old room was his old room, just at a later date. It was as if he aged it because he knew there was more to the story. He was right. All the tally marks were overlapped. For every vertical line, there was a matching horizontal. "Why is there so many?" he asked himself, and silently the answer was given to him. Different locations, same entity, anything could be transferred. Subconsciously it was given, "One for each of me." He banished it, and went back to his third person point of view. He had to think of something or he'd be stuck here forever. That's when he realized the full truth of the statement, 'Even if I die, this won't end.'  
  
_In the memory you'll find me  
Eyes burning up  
The darkness holding me tightly  
Until the sun rises up_  
  
He kept moving around, so unaccustomed to the strange feeling in the back of his head. It was like the buzzing he'd once had, and the loss of time without blacking out. It was like being three places at once and not being anywhere _all_ the time. All he had was his memories, because even _he_ was ignoring him now, and why not? He had ignored _him_ whenever he possibly could. Regret always came too late. Now all he had was a picture of a green sky with Kakkarot standing over him. It was all his fault, it was all his fault..it was all his fault...  
  
He enveloped himself deeper in his coffin, inhaling all of the liquid he could. He suffocated himself over and over, never feeling as hopeless as he did the day he died. And the hopelessness was his console, for he finally came to the conclusion that this was his life. This was their life, this was his life, they were one in the same, but different. Everything he didn't want to see before, he saw now. Denial had been refused, just as the ability to..leave..was refused. Twilight was setting into place, and Vegeta hoped that it wouldn't stay very long.  
  
_Moving all around, screaming of the ups and downs  
Pollution manifested in perpetual sound  
The wheels go round and the sunset creeps past the  
Street lamps, chain-link and concrete  
A little piece of paper with a picture drawn floats  
On down the street till the wind is gone  
The memory now is like the picture was then  
When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again_  
  
He'd begun his little "project" when his stomach rumbled, demanding to be fed. He sighed, dropped his tools, and went straight for the kitchen. He opened the fridge to find no leftovers readily available. He shrugged, closed the door and knelt to get in some lower cabinets. He opened one, dug out a rather large economy size can of soup, and then proceeded to extract a pot. It would've taken Vegeta a few minutes to complete this task, if he'd even perform it himself, but where as Vegeta would impatiently wait for things to get done, he was watching and making notes. He had an excellent memory to boot - he could remember the day he was born. It kind of made him feel special. Regardless, that information didn't help out in his current situation, so he went on to heating up the stove and opening the can. He began preparing his meal with ease, and as he idly stirred his soup, he let his mind drift.  
  
He shifted, just enough to see what Vegeta was doing and still not be noticeable. A tricky thing to do, but after being in that position he knew plenty more about it than Vegeta did, and being as an observer to Vegeta, he knew plenty of the position he now held. He was a well-rounded individual. He was actually surprised at what he came across. Vegeta was half-reminiscing and half-dreaming at the same time, so that that odd non-existent buzzing was droning on and on while his entire make-shift surroundings resembled a type of mixed Edgar Allen Poe and M.C. Escher feeling.  
  
The combination of the two caused too much distortion for even normal functions to be completed with ease, and Vegeta had to wonder if he was doing this to himself on purpose. He knew attempts to escape by extreme means were pointless, he'd known this for a long time. Without control, you had nothing, save for all the lovely untouchable attributes. As he noticed his soup boiling he withdrew back to the real world, his mouth watering as his stomach growled again. Vegeta really didn't keep them well nourished at times.  
  
_Now you got me caught in the act  
You bring the thought back  
I'm telling you that  
I see it right through you_  
  
Now, where as Vegeta was known for some of his manners, he himself prided on being the "typical" male, mainly because he was anything but typical. He'd drink milk out of the carton, tinker with things in the garage, fix things around the house, watch sports, and even drink beer on occasion. Now adding to that long list was his personal favorite - obnoxious eating. It involved stuffing your face without the use of silverware, and being noisy about it too, which meant slurping, sipping, chewing with your mouth full and open, and burping.  
  
So going with the flow, he picked up the pot and began eating the soup directly from it. While swallowing, he did notice that certain blue-haired woman enter the room. She also stopped and stared at him, but it didn't bother him at all, he was used to much worse things. He finished his small meal, giving a sigh of satisfaction, before burping. He excused himself and hit his chest a few times before smiling at Bulma, giving her his full attention, "Yes, what is it?"  
  
Slowly she approached him, one eyebrow raised, "What were you eating?"  
  
"Soup."  
  
"Where'd you get it?"  
  
"From the can."  
  
"So you just opened a can of soup, put it in a pot and ate it?"  
  
"No. I cooked it first, like you're supposed to."  
  
"And you did this by yourself?"  
  
"And why not? I'm a big boy."  
  
Bulma didn't know what to say in response to that. She'd always gotten the not-so-subtle hint that Vegeta dropped, the same hint that made her wish to be more feminist. Finally, she marched over to him and placed the back of her hand against his forehead, "You're a bit warm, and flushed."  
  
He chuckled at her actions, pulling back slightly, "I had been training pretty hard today, you know."  
  
This brought back forgotten thoughts from earlier, "Why did you want the blue prints for the capsule?"  
  
Vegeta couldn't help but grin, "It's a surprise." Bulma didn't look too happy about that kind of idea, in fact she looked more worried than anything. "Man, you really crack me up, Bulma," he stated as he got up from his chair, taking the pot and putting it in the sink, running some water into it.  
  
"Are you feeling okay?" she finally managed to bring herself to ask, unable to ignore his good attitude. He chuckled again, shaking his head while looking down. He brought his gaze back up to her and his expression softened, "..Never been this close...." She tilted her head to the side as if she was certain she had heard him wrong. But then, a moment later, his hand caressed her cheek. She blushed as he gave her that look of barely masked desire.  
  
'What's gotten into him??' she wondered, but didn't question it as he leaned in, gently kissing her. It was perfect. His first kiss. And then, a voice booming, interrupting everything:  
  
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!"  
  
The abrupt manner, and the high volume of it all caused him to clutch his head, and he stumbled, catching himself on the table. "Are you okay!?" Bulma practically demanded, at his side and looking on in great concern. He hadn't been acting right since the fight at the tournament...  
  
He growled loudly and stood up straight. He turned to Bulma, mumbled a mixed apology and excuse, then darted off to his room. He slammed the door shut, and marched up to the mirror. Pointing an accusing finger he told Vegeta, "I don't give a _fuck_ if you want to hear this or not, but Bulma doesn't just love you. Yeah, it's true. Bulma loves _Vegeta_, Vegeta. Don't you remember who Vegeta is? I'm _not_ putting up with this, I have every right to touch her!"  
  
"No, you don't!"  
  
"Are you Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins!?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"And who am I!? Who am _I_, Vegeta!? Say my name, like you've said it before! I want to hear you say it _now_!!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"SAY IT!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"IS NOT MY NAME VEGETA, THE PRINCE OF SAIJINS!?"  
  
"YES, IT IS!! There, are you happy!? Are you fucking happy!?"  
  
The room went spinning, and when it returned, his reflection had moved to his right, in front of the dresser. They glared at each other.  
  
"Now you know how it feels. The more dead you become, the more disconnected you are. You can leave, but you can never, ever, come back. But you already know part two, that you'll want to come back. Why? Because this is your life. Well, news flash, Vegeta, this is _our_ life, and it's ending one minute at a time." 


	11. Cure for the Itch

A/N: Woohoo, instrumental song! Freebie chapter! XD Oh, and you can thank Skip, she helped me out. So read her stuff so you can worship her like I dooooooo....  
  
**Cure for the Itch**  
  
Vegeta stared at Vegeta with a pensive look. Then slowly he repeated, "Our life, and it's ending..one minute at a time..."  
  
Vegeta nodded in affirmation, "I have lived so long without living, I refuse to do it any longer."  
  
The prince looked up at him and into his eyes at that remark, "It doesn't justify your actions. There are still some things you don't know about me!"  
  
Vegeta sneered, waving his hand as if to shoo him away, "This discussion is over." He calmly walked over to the door, opened it, and slammed it behind him. The barrier between them was more than physical. Where as Vegeta simply began walking downstairs, Vegeta was sent back to his cell, whilst simultaneously standing in his room, alone.  
  
As Vegeta turned to find his way back to Bulma, he heard her give a loud, joyous whoop. He entered the family room, where the blue-haired minx was practically dancing. "What's going on?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. By this point, Trunks had found his way into the room as well, and watched his mother with an amused expression on his face.  
  
"Goku's coming back!" she announced, clasping her hands together, "He decided that staying up in Heaven wasn't the best course of action, and he missed everyone. He's coming back!"  
  
Vegeta folded his arms, seemingly contemplative, "When?"  
  
Bulma composed herself, taking deeper breaths, "Tonight. Isn't that great! Man, I've missed him so much.." It was then that Bulma noticed the very peculiar look that Vegeta held on his face - with muscles relaxed, eyebrows slightly scrunched, and with a small, slight, mischievous smirk on his face. "Anything..wrong?" she quietly asked, realizing that her display of excitement might have caused the prince to become jealous.  
  
"No, no," he said, unfolding his arms and waving as if to dismiss it, "Just thinking, that's all."  
  
His son finally decided to add to the conversation, "Does this mean I'll get to see Goten more often?"  
  
Vegeta chuckled, heading off in the direction of his training room, "Most likely. Excuse me, I've got some things I need to finish.." As he slipped out of the room he heard Bulma discuss with Trunks about the potential increase of visitations between the two young demi-Saijins. He shrugged it off, preparing himself for concentration on his "project". He knelt down and picked up the tools he had previously discarded, and resumed his work.  
  
He worked sometime late in the evening, and then, finding peace, he lounged out and fell asleep.  
  
He dreamt he was in his old-old room. He was singing a song, an old song. An ancient Saijin song that only he knew. He watched as he tore apart the room - bed dismantled, dresser kicked apart, lamp broken. This was so different from normal, with normal being abnormal. It wasn't normal, nor abnormal, it was _more_ unnatural to him. He was oblivious to onlookers, only noticing as the window creaked, then began to split. "Opps," proclaimed Vegeta, as if it was nothing. He and he stood, just waiting for the window to give out. There was that old sensation of a life with no direction. Someone picked him up and got him out of the room just seconds before he would've been pulled into the vacuum of space. Everyone stared. Vegeta laughed at them, and their pitiful, meaningless lives. They were below him, and he was nothing. And it was _funny_.  
  
The general asked him, "Are you feeling alright, Prince Vegeta?" Vegeta laughed, and he couldn't help but join him. Everything was so _clear_. Vegeta was learning, and he was bleeding himself. Emptying, emptying, emptying, like an endless vat of blood.  
  
Vegeta responded to Nappa, "Everything's spinning, I think I'm going to barf." He somehow kept his nauseous stomach under control. His eyes suddenly moved involuntarily, the entirety shaking, twitching, distorting his vision almost painfully. He was nothing, nothing. Oh god, it was so _funny_!  
  
"Prince Vegeta, let's go to the medical ward. You haven't slept in over 168 hours."  
  
At the impending presence of the other prince, Vegeta awoke abruptly. It was mid-morning. "What do you think you're doing to my training room!?" Vegeta screamed right off the bat.  
  
"Modifications. That's right, I'm making it _better_," he responded before cutting the man off, forcing him away with merely a thought. No interruptions were allowed. If you can be distracted, you will be. Vegeta tried to reenter the perimeter, but Vegeta made sure that he wouldn't get in. 'Go entertain yourself,' he told him before closing off contact for final. Gripping the tool that he'd fallen asleep with in his hand more tightly, he stretched and went straight back to his undertaking. He stopped briefly, twice, once for breakfast, and once for lunch. He didn't waste the breaks, however, he planned step two of his master plan to turn around his life and overall improve it.  
  
Due to his organizational and general skills, he completed his project in the early afternoon. Ironically, this was when the Z warriors showed up. Apparently, Bulma had invited them over in celebration of Goku returning. He didn't mind, so long as they kept away from him. They weren't bad people, but he wanted his "me" time. The unwritten law of having the opposite occur of whatever you want came into effect. He was training contently when a familiar presence came close by.  
  
"Hello there, Kakkarot. How does it feel being alive again?" he asked nonchalantly, as he fought with a bot.  
  
The younger man stopped in his tracks momentarily as he replied, "Just about that same, except, well..kind of happier, I guess."  
  
Vegeta narrowly dodged a reflected ki blast, but he was able to nod to the comment, "Well, that's good isn't it?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of like this..Heaven isn't so bad, but why miss the opportunity to live more when I'll be dead for eternity?"  
  
Another bot zoomed around, reflecting the blast back into the prince when he wasn't looking. The forced knocked Vegeta down hard. He coughed and spluttered in irritation, spitting the grass out of his mouth, "You have a point."  
  
Goku's curiosity got the best of him, "Why are you training outside?"  
  
Vegeta smirked, "Why don't you come over here?"  
  
Shrugging, the black-haired man approached the brunette, when suddenly his body was slammed to the Earth. "What the!?" he cried out, shakily pushing himself onto his hands and knees. He struggled to maintain his composure, but it began to slip. Every fiber of himself was being pressed down, and he felt like he was slowly getting squished. Without a second thought, he tapped into his ability, and transformed. The weight lifted almost completely and he gave a sigh before sitting down indian style, "Phew..What the heck was that?" Vegeta, by this point, had taken care of the bots, which were now on the ground, a pile of black ashes.  
  
The prince laughed warmly as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead, "I made improvements to the Capsule 3." Goku suddenly noticed something he had not before, due to his lack of knowledge about the situation they were in. Where as Goku had been so overwhelmed he had to turn Super Saijin - Vegeta was still in his normal state. Vegeta continued, not acknowledging the look of complete surprise that was written all over the hero's face. "I was sick of training inside, so I took apart the main console and the generators. With them disassembled from the capsule it was only a piece of cake to restructure the gravitational limitations. I only have two "walls" for now," the prince gestured to the ground, then to the side of Capsule Corp, "but I'll fix that later. Not a tough job to do anyway, just have to set in some extra perimeter, ah..devices."  
  
"Perimeter devices?"  
  
"Well, you wouldn't want anybody just wandering into 1000 Gs would you? Look what happened to you, and you're the strongest in the universe."  
  
"Vegeta-"  
  
"So I think what I'll have to do is set up the perimeter devices directly on each side of the gravitational outputs, to create a barrier for the increase of gravity instead of having no transition. I'm thinking of condensing the gravity in on itself."  
  
Goku merely blinked. Finally he said, "Wait, that's possible?"  
  
Vegeta stopped and looked up in thought, "Yeah, sure. Especially if I have two devices aimed at each other."  
  
"But wouldn't you be effected by going through so much gravity??"  
  
"Well, the entire point of the devices is to prevent that. The whole point is to create a type of blockade from Earth's normal gravity and the area within the gravity outputs."  
  
"But how can you create a wall out of _gravity_?"  
  
"Look, I told you: you condense it and set it on itself."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Imagine a force going in all directions at once within a given area, which is about the, oh, let's just say width of sheet of paper. The simultaneous inward and outward movement of gravity will condense itself, making it, how shall I say...balance out? It'll act of the same properties of a solid object, but indestructible, and nearly impenitrable."  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"Geez, don't worry about it Kakkarot," Vegeta sighed, breaking into a small smirk, "Man, this planet is so under-developed."  
  
Quietly, Goku pressed on, "How come you're not..Super Saijin?"  
  
"I don't need to be."  
  
"Vegeta, I.."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I don't mean to seem rude, but.."  
  
"Yes??"  
  
"I didn't think you were that strong."  
  
Vegeta suddenly narrowed his eyes at him, "I'm sorry, I believe you're mistaking me for someone else. Did you forget what I told you?" Goku opened his mouth to speak, but the prince cut him off, "Why don't you want to talk to _me_, Kakkarot? Huh? Why does everyone want to talk to Vegeta, huh!?"  
  
The mood swing was too strange, and Goku was taken aback by it, "Vegeta, I-"  
  
The brunette didn't allow him to finish again, "NO! I don't want to hear it! It's bullshit, and lies, and everyone ignores me! Nobody cares! If I slashed my wrists, no one would _care_!" Using his Super Saijin form to his advantage, Goku moved with unmatchable speed, quickly and effectively pinning Vegeta against the ground.  
  
"That's a lie and you know it!" Goku spat back, for he understood how much Bulma and Trunks cared for him, and he himself respected the elder, and had even hoped for a friendship.  
  
"You _liar_!" Vegeta screamed, twisting in his grasp, "You don't know the things I know! You _don't_ know! If I died you wouldn't even know! You wouldn't even care! _You don't know who I am_!!" The smaller man was going into hysterics, and Goku knew it.  
  
The sharp sting that accompanied the loud smacking noise brought him back to his senses. Tentatively, Vegeta brought his hand up to his cheek, looking at the other in amazement. "You are Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins," Goku said, his turquoise eyes soft but persistently forceful.  
  
There was a whispered response, "But do you know who Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins, is?" 


	12. Pushing Me Away

**Pushing Me Away**  
  
_ I've lied to you  
The same way that I always do  
This is the last smile  
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you_  
  
They sat next to each other in an odd sort of companionable silence. It was calm like the after-effects of a natural disaster. Everything's torn apart, but it feels like it can't get any worse. After the younger man had deactivated the gravity, he returned to the prince's side, and sat. Vegeta was hunched over, staring at the ground intently, obviously trying to zone himself out. Almost hesitantly, Goku tried to start a conversation again, "I came to see how you were. You know, because you were acting kinda weird at the tournament." He noticed Vegeta tense.  
  
Then, finally, the brunette sighed deeply, his posture slouching once more, "Yes, well..I haven't been sleeping well. I think I'll be..fine now."  
  
Goku lightly placed his hand on the elder's shoulder, "Vegeta..you don't have to lie to me."  
  
Vegeta tossed his head back and released a rich laugh, "Oh, yes. You and your emotion-reading abilities. So what am I lying about?"  
  
Goku shook his head, eyebrows knitting, "I don't need a sixth sense to figure out that something is wrong." He paused briefly to collect himself, "You spoke of slashing your wrists." Goku felt a spike of anger from within Vegeta before the other Saijin brought himself under control.  
  
"It was nothing, Kakkarot," Vegeta explained, turning to look at him, "Now, I want you to listen to me. I've had some problems for a long time now, but I think I'm starting to figure some of them out. Saying bullshit like that just makes me figure out..ah..how I feel." He offered the other a smile, "So don't worry about me, Kakkarot. I can take care of myself."  
  
_ Everything falls apart  
Even the people who never frown, eventually break down  
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie  
Everything has to end  
You'll soon find we're out of time, to watch it all unwind_  
  
And then Goku said something he didn't expect him to say.  
  
"No."  
  
Vegeta tilted his head to the side, "Excuse me?"  
  
Goku's eyes narrowed, his resolve steeling itself, "You heard me. No. I _am_ going to worry, because I can tell you're hiding things from me. So why don't you talk to me? I want to listen to _you_. Tell me what's wrong, Vegeta. Please.."  
  
The prince's gaze shifted away from the younger man, before finally looking up into Goku's eyes, "I've lived an entire life without living. I don't want this existence to continue." The black-haired Saijin was stunned to see such a drastic change in attitude once again. He was also stunned by the way Vegeta's aura reflected his mood, and the sheer darkness of it made Goku wince. There was something terribly wrong that Vegeta wanted to keep inside for whatever reason. "I've never gotten to do what I've wanted to," he elaborated, finding that his limbs felt weak. He could just waste away..he'd been doing it for years.  
  
_ The sacrifice is never knowing  
Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away_  
  
"Why not?" Goku asked in a whisper, seemingly understanding that this was only a chip of the iceberg.  
  
Suddenly, the prince exploded in anger, "I don't know! Because I'm stupid, alright!? Because I didn't want to believe the truth so I just imagined up a new scenario to live out! Why did you have to wish me back!? You're such an idiot! I can't stand you! I'm repulsed by you! Mr. High-and-Mighty, the perfect flawless hero who's too innocent to have blood on his hands regardless of the amount of people he's killed! Fuck that! Fuck your ability to just be simultaneously physically Saijin and mentally human!"  
  
"Vegeta-"  
  
"Fuck you!"  
  
"Vegeta, I am not perfect. And I know you're just saying these things because you're upset."  
  
"Fuck what you know! You need to forget about what you know, what you think you know, especially when it comes to _me_. I am your prince, Kakkarot. I have been, and always will be! How do you expect me to respect you when you refuse to acknowledge who and what you are? You're worse than _me_!"  
  
"Vegeta-"  
  
"When I kill you, I will bathe myself in your blood and sing to the devils of Hell as a thanks."  
  
Goku closed his mouth and swallowed, taken aback by the extreme seriousness the threat had been spoken with. The intense gaze reminded the black-haired man of a dead fire that was snuffed out of life, but with a bit of kindling and a spark, regeneration was possible. "I want to know you," the younger spoke with honesty, "I want to know who Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins, is."  
  
With an odd half-bitten noise, Vegeta drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them for balance. He made a strange choking sound, something torn between a growl and a sob as he bowed his head, trying to recreate his previous life experiences. Bleeding himself dry was a way to find solace, but now he couldn't do that without severe consequences. Life was always _not_ fair. With his eyes shut he called upon the remnants of happiness and transformed into a Super Saijin. It wasn't his normal metamorphosis - it lacked flair, flaunt, a general blazing aura of pride and a desperate attempt to prove something. For him, Super Saijin was the equivalent of hugging your childhood stuffed animal - it was a comfort device.  
  
_I've tried, like you  
To do everything you wanted too  
This is the last time  
I'll take the blame for the sake of being with you  
Everything falls apart  
Even the people who never frown, eventually break down  
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie  
Everything has to end  
You'll soon find we're out of time, to watch it all unwind_  
  
For him, there was no escape: "No acceptance."  
For him, accomplishments meant little to nothing: "Always failing."  
For him, he wasn't granted individualism: "Trapped."  
For him, the finger was always pointed in his direction: "Guilty by association."  
  
He tipped his head back, looking up at the deep blue sky, "My life in a nutshell." A nervous hand reached up and pulled at his golden hair, "I hate you because I like you."  
  
Goku realized that Vegeta was speaking to him directly, and swallowed, trying to relieve his tight throat, "I like you too Vegeta. ...May we..be friends?"  
  
The prince's eyes narrowed as they gazed out into space; he still did not turn to regard the other Saijin face to face, "No. Not until I can..prove myself. Not until you can acknowledge me properly!" His lapse in memory returned. It was time for phase two of his brilliant plan. "This conversation is temporarily postponed," Vegeta announced, swiftly getting to his feet, "I have wasted enough time with this. It's meaningless until I have taken appropriate action upon my _problem_."  
  
"Vegeta..?"  
  
"Don't worry, we _will_ continue this later."  
  
_ The sacrifice is never knowing  
Why I never walked away  
Why I played myself this way  
Now I see your testing me pushes me away_  
  
With his back straightened, and his chin up high, Vegeta marched inside of Capsule Corp looking much like the prince he was except lacking the proper attire. Goku was left to contemplate the entirely new complicated relationship that was growing between himself and his ex-enemy.  
  
There was the admittance of a probable friendship, but it appeared there was many factors involved that prevented them from getting closer. One was most certainly Vegeta's pride. Second was simply their drastically different upbringings. Third, and perhaps most importantly, was Vegeta's _problem_, whatever that was. He supposedly knew, but he wasn't sure if he truly did. Was it the lack of sleep that made Vegeta so unbalanced? Was it a lunacy, a remainder of his slave-like childhood and adolescence? Was it the pain of loss of his family, his planet? Goku shook his head, disapproving of himself. He should have considered these things earlier, not now.  
  
Goku could barely fathom what life would be like if he was the sole survivor of Earth's annihilation. Goku had only lost Yamcha, Tien, Chout-zu, Piccolo, and Krillin - all of which were brought back to life a short time later. Vegeta had lost everyone except Goku, and had been forced to obey the same person who took it all away from him. He had heard that Vegeta hadn't been at all upset about the truth of his planet's destruction at first, being more concerned that he was suckered into the lie. Goku knew that it had effected him tremendously. And why not? Vegeta had been ripped of his innocence and happiness, while being forced to do an adult's job. A killer at the age of what - five? seven? ten?  
  
"I'm sorry, my prince."  
  
A silent voice replied, "It's okay, Kakkarot. So long as you understand."  
  
With that, Vegeta detached himself from the outside world, and instantaneously returned to his inner realm within the shared unoccupied cell. He'd been stealthily hiding in the shadows, watching what the other was doing in his form, trying to gather more hate, but found, unfortunately, that instead he had learned more about his problem in one day than he had over the past thirty or forty so years. The clarity that was coming into focus was haunting. He felt..terrified, to the point where he considered smashing apart this partially completed jigsaw of his life, just to live in the comfortable chaos he was accustomed to. But he knew he could never go back to the way things were before.  
  
Now he transformed into the shadows he was lurking in, following Vegeta first into Bulma's lab, then into the sky as he flew about, apparently aimless. He wasn't too interested in _his_ brooding, or pining, or whatever it was he was doing, so he disentangled himself carefully and ventured back to Capsule Corp. Upon arrival, he sought out the main center of activity, watching with detached interest at the party which was taking place. Watching the world pass him by made him regret all the times he'd just simply ignored everything. He had lived a life of no value, and he knew it.  
  
Closing his eyes he sank away from the combined noise and imagery of the celebration to enclose himself in his old room. Finding the tally marks burning themselves into his retinas like how hot iron brands an animal, caused him to turn away and seek other means of momentary escape. He felt himself go deeper and deeper, the pressure building, astounding, crushing him. His lungs gasped for breath as his chest began to cave in. The air was thick, exceedingly so, and only then did he realize the metallic tang to it. And then, and only then, did he realize that it wasn't air at all, but his own blood due to internal bleeding. Blood. His own blood.  
  
There would never be freedom from this ongoing ongoingness, and there would never be the..  
enlightenmentoftheabstractofthedisembowleddreamoftomorrowfromtheyesterdaythatshared  
todaywiththepresentwiththeeverything...  
...this...was...his life...too....  
  
Now was a false reality, where he was standing in the bathroom of where ever he was. Immaculate, with not a spot of dust in sight. The whiteness of it all gave it a faint clinical feeling, but more so than that, it contrasted with his looks. The light accenting his face revealed dark bags under his eyes, the evidence of lack of sleep. He was the all-powerful empowered nothing, and this was the end of the road. This was his escape. With a blade against his wrist, this was his escape. He didn't hesitate, as if it wasn't his own body, he applied pressure to his skin, watching blood well up from the laceration before dragging it slowly. His lips upturned as he watched the skin split in a straight, perfect, line. His hand twitched as he felt himself severing the veins. His head tossed back, and took air in through his teeth, hissing as he body jolted with ecstasy. This was his life and it was ending _now_.  
  
He lowered his gaze from the ceiling to the mirror, examining the self-inflicted wound with satisfaction. Taking the sharp metal, he pressed it to his other forarm and cut deeply, watching in morbid enjoyment as the blood welled and trailed down his skin. He smiled bitterly - contently - at the crimson that flowed from his wrists, streaming into different paths, branching off of the main trails. He faintly heard the angels singing in an ancient, long dead language...  
  
And then it came to pass that this now was only a reflection of the past left from the alternate. This now, or past now, was merely an expression of inner desire that had been discarded by, most likely, mere accident. The question was not how he had viewed Vegeta's perverted sense of elation, but why? Why would he--?  
  
He left the confines of his secondary home and burst through to the light of day to find Vegeta before seven small orange balls and one gargantuan dragon. He panicked, not knowing what was going on or how much of it he had missed. His very existence could be erased in a matter of seconds due to his own neglectance. Did he really want to die? Or not exist? Or maybe what he really wanted was a reason to live, a reason to deal with the mundane bullshit he had to put up with everyday.  
  
His emotions gushed, confusion dominating as his inner reflexes contradicted one another. Vegeta forced himself to calm down and examine his surroundings more carefully. He turned around and was surprised to see Kakkarot, as well as Bulma, there. What was going on...? He paused to interpret the words being spoken, piecing them together and giving them meaning.  
  
"You don't just run off like that! What did you wish for?!" Bulma demanded, stepping closer to him.  
  
"You're not blind, are you? Look.." Vegeta replied with a grin.  
  
"What are you-" Bulma cut herself off with a gasp as he held up a long, brown appendage. The fur fluffed itself before settling back down, and she stuttered, "Y-You're tail! But why??"  
  
Vegeta met Goku's gaze, his grin widening to show his pearly whites. Goku restrained himself from growling at the challenge, instead he informed Bulma of the meaning, "He did it to gain power."  
  
"Regain power," Vegeta corrected, "it's just the power I lost a long time ago in that fight with you."  
  
"Oh, so I can't have my tail back, right? I guess that wouldn't be fair?"  
  
"I lost my tail in a fight. You? I don't know, and don't care. That's your business, but it comes down to it that you lost it. Why should I wish it back?"  
  
"That's not the point and you know it."  
  
Vegeta suddenly froze in place, eyes widening slightly before his expression turned a bit sly, "We have company."  
  
"It's just you, me, and Goku, Vegeta."  
  
He laughed, "That's what you think." His voice dropped low, "You don't have a clue, even though you've lived with me for years. Kakkarot barely comprehends the facts I lay out for him."  
  
"I don't know what you mean, Vegeta. Don't have a clue about what?"  
  
"About _me_! It's so blatantly obvious, especially with him next to me!"  
  
"Who? Goku??"  
  
"No, _him_! Vegeta!"  
  
Bulma fumed, a snarl rising in her throat. With her fists clenched and her frustration level nearing its limit, she managed to shout, "I wish I could see what Vegeta's problem is!!"  
  
The large dragon's eyes glowed a bright red after he said, "It shall be done." The color faded from the dragonballs, leaving them as white lifeless stones that rose into the sky and burst, scattering to seven different corners of the world. Bulma realized her error only once it was too late, but there was no going back now. The prince was enveloped in a bright pocket a light that seemed to almost disconnect him from the world by the unnaturalality.  
  
Vegeta gasped as he felt his muted senses recharge and assault him with the smell of earth, the sight of vivid colors, the sound of the wind blowing gently, and the feel of mere _existence_. The light began to fade, taking with it the thick blanket of denial. Assessing the situation immediately, Vegeta looked at Vegeta as the other prince gazed back.  
  
"This is my problem," both Vegetas said, and finally, the others understood. 


	13. Epilogue: My December

A/N: Here's the *cough*stunning*cough* conclusion. I hope it gives enough closure. ^^; Thank you Skip for all your help, and abuse. :D  
  
**My December**  
  
_This is my December  
This is my time of the year  
This is my December  
This is all so clear  
This is my December  
This is my snow covered home  
This is my December  
This is me alone_  
  
It was a quiet afternoon, and he had managed escaping his ever-watchful family to slip off down the hall. He understood their concern, but now things were different, and he had more control. It was December now. He liked December. He liked playing in the snow; there was never snow on Planet Vegeta. He hadn't ever really noticed the seasons of Earth, doing most of his things indoors like he had his entire life. If anything though, he was sick to death of that. Nearly literally as well, as he recalled his countless desires for suicide in the past, most of which swarmed around his life of servitude under Freiza. But now Freiza was dead, and he had a whole planet to himself. Well, nearly himself...  
  
He didn't bother thinking upon it negatively, as he knew that he didn't really care about that type of thing anymore. He reached the closet and opened it in silence, feeling much like a teenager who was sneaking out of the house without his parents permission or knowledge. He quickly found his coat, a long charcoal grey item that resembled a trench coat. One of the first items of clothing he had bought, even if it was truly Bulma who had paid for it. He picked up a brown fleece scarf that was on a hanger and put it around his neck. Nearly tip-toeing, he made his way to the door, then outside.  
  
Once the door was shut, however, he relaxed, both physically and mentally. With a grin he took off into the air, flying a considerable distance away so he wouldn't get caught. The cold air against his face felt nice, it was a brisk feeling that made his cheeks flush from the temperature change. He landed in a city park nearby, noting the lack of people.  
  
He shrugged to himself and began walking down a trail to just relax and have some "me" time, only this time could he honestly call it that. He put his hands in his pockets, not bothering to deal with gloves at the moment, though they would have been nice. He looked up at the grey sky through the leafless branches. People often found winter gloomy, but not him. He closed his eyes as he walked, hoping he wouldn't run into a tree, but wanting to enjoy being immersed in nature while walking at the same time. His eyes opened as something cold and wet touched his nose. He blinked and wiped away the liquid before noticing the fact that it was gently snowing. He smiled.  
  
Earth looked rather pretty - it would have been a shame to blow it up. He was glad Kakkarot stopped him, was even glad the third class was more powerful than him. He knew he shouldn't be, that he should be angry that he was the prince and the weaker of the two..but now that he thought about it, even that was questionable. He had his tail back, which currently was wrapped around his waist, and it had returned a large amount of power to him.  
  
He was certain that, without a doubt, it was possible to finally best Kakkarot. And what would he do if he won the fight? His original intentions were to kill, or to force the younger to see things his way. He shook his head, chuckling at his own foolish decisions. Now, he'd congratulate Kakkarot for a good fight, and offer him a hand up. Killing him was pointless when the man obviously was of more submission nature, and forcing him to do things his way wouldn't really change him any. Not that he wanted Kakkarot to change. He couldn't believe it had taken him years to realize that. Waste of time, really, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now.  
  
He wouldn't intentionally hurt Kakkarot outside of a fight anyway, not when he'd helped him so much. He smiled fondly at the memories the black-haired man had created, revised, and brought into light. The other Saijin had done so much for him, sacrificing part of his home life to visit him.  
  
The first few weeks were the hardest, on everyone. With the ability to physically see what his problem was, apparently "hear" went along with. There was so many fights that he couldn't even count them all. He paused, smirked, and shook his head. Okay, so there had been twenty-seven different accounts of attacks, most of which had been witnessed by one of the Z warriors or another, and all of which freaked them all out exceedingly.  
  
He didn't understand why, and he doubted he ever would, because to him, it was normal, except now the fights were taking place, with a lack of a better word, outside. He recalled some of the more..interesting..ones and shuddered. Bulma hadn't been able to look him in the eye for nine days when she saw "Number Two" wrestle "Number One" to the ground and proceed to punch the living hell out of him, finishing with a ki blast that decimated half of his face, leaving blackened skin and bone in its wake. He was lucky "Number Two" had been possession of his body, otherwise he would've been a world of hurt.  
  
It had taken them quite awhile to get accustomed to him, and that's where the terms "Number One" and "Number Two" came about. Bulma had been so perplexed by his problem, she went as far as off-planet to look for a reason why things were happening the way they did. In the end, she had come up with nothing, but Goku had gotten a good idea, and asked King Kai if he could scrounge up some info. This made Vegeta feel better, to know the reason why he was the way he was.  
  
His "abnormality" wasn't more "abnormal", but rather "rare". Just like his atypical form of motion sickness, it appeared he was, as they said, "sick in the head". Somehow, this did not surprise him. King Kai, with the help of a few underground record keepers, was able to determine the exact problem. Duel personality. Except with him, there were some major twists, most of them due to the fact he was a Saijin. Unlike normal humans with duel personality disorder, Vegeta's second self was not created due to a traumatic experience, as "Number Two" had explained to them. He remembered the shock on Bulma's, Kakkarot's, King Kai's, and his own face as he said:  
  
"Vegeta thinks I came around in his childhood because he can only remember that far back. I was born at the same time as him, down to the exact second."  
  
The other distinction between the human and Saijin versions of the illness, was the ability to have two personalities function at the same time, within and without a physical host. For a normal human, a second personality often times wasn't very active, and was more than likely unable to communicate properly due simply to its nature. It had been unnerving to see two of the same person within the same room, but even more disturbing to see them separate from each other, although it was very clear which was which. "Number One" was the Vegeta the Earth's Special Forces had been interacting with for years, and "Number Two" was the more laid-back, yet pensive of the pair.  
  
Days passed, and eventually the others began to slowly get accustomed to the "two" princes. Bulma and Goku spent most of their time conversing with either of the Vegetas, trying to figure out a possible solution to their strange predicament. Instead, they found that each personality had their own set of certain points of view, reactions to situations, and memories. After a little bit of experimentation, they were amazed to find that "Number Two" had miraculously remembered everything that had ever occurred, not only in his lifetime, but in "Number One"'s as well. But where their differences were many, there likenesses _weren't_ few. Both often spoke of feelings of isolation, failure, lack of self-esteem, lack of self-respect, worthlessness, and rage.  
  
After a month, Bulma tried to get them to talk out their differences. They decided, naturally, to settle their disagreements with their fists, which later gave him a bought of nasty bruises. The fight seemed to do some good, as "Number One"'s jealousy declined, and "Number Two"'s understanding increased. An amazing breakthrough took place only a week or so after that. "Number Two" had been lounging outside on a lawn chair when Goku had managed to bring "Number One" outside. He somehow got them to sit next to each other. Casual, but bitter, conversation passed between the two, and eventually they lapsed into silence. Then, they both tilted their heads to the side, pointed up and said, "That cloud looks like a rabbit." It was the instant _he_ was born. The Vegeta he was now was merely the combination of the two Vegetas he was before. It was a slow process, considering his own stubbornness, a trait both personalities had, but in the end they both decided that unity sounded like the best thing for both of them.  
  
It had taken place in September, when, at last, only one Vegeta was visible. It was a proud day for him. He'd woken up - just right - and went downstairs to find Bulma cooking breakfast. Where one came to eat, the other usually followed, seeing that with the ability to be seen and heard, they both appreciated it. Only on rare occasions would one slip back into the mind and disappear from sight. "Where's the other one?" Bulma had asked as she flipped an omelet over.  
  
"He is present and accounted for," the prince had replied.  
  
The blue-haired lady raised an eyebrow, "Is he having such a bad day that he doesn't want to come out?"  
  
He shook his head and took a seat, "No. He is sitting before you. The ones you know as 'Number One' and 'Number Two' no longer exist. There is only me, Vegeta, the Prince of Saijins."  
  
Since that day things had been taking a smoother ride, except for a few occasional, and very rough, bumps. Integration had its adverse effects as well, one of them being a combined depression that almost cost him his life. Kakkarot had come to his rescue, but what really saved him was his own indecision. He couldn't decide if he wanted to drown himself, or slit his wrists. In the end, that had bought enough time for Goku to find him. He ended up crying in front of the warrior, again. Funny, now that he thought of it, the two times he'd cried it had been in front of the only other full-blooded Saijin alive, and only when he was moments away from death. He'd hoped he hadn't started a trend.  
  
Thanks to his memory, however, the words spoken that day were prominently etched in his mind. Goku had held him and he had accepted the embrace. He had never had a shoulder to cry on before, but it did make him feel better to have one. It had felt even better to use it.  
  
The only other obstacle they truly encountered was his rage. During that particular desegregation session Goku had to be by his side twenty-four hours a day, as it seemed he had lost control over his more abusive side. He had almost hit Bulma for a simple remark about him not looking well. No one was allowed to come into the same room as him except Goku, being as he was the only one able to physically keep him under control. Odd enough, the prince hadn't turned Super Saijin once, no matter how angry he got, or how many death threats he gave. Goku kept him under good tabs with all things considered. From that point on, he'd been merging continuously without a problem, and everyone who came in contact with the prince found that he was becoming a well-balanced medium between the two personalities.  
  
The more interesting of aspects was that he had retained the memories of both personalities and could explicitly recall and explain his actions down to the last detail. He found this beneficial, as he could study past mistakes and easily learn from them. He also seemed to be embarrassed in general, seeing that it was improper for a prince to not accept who he was. Long ago he had accepted the _situation_, but without cooperation between the duo, the merging was impossible to even begin.  
  
Regardless, he now felt completely at ease with his position as the process was nearly complete. Every once in a great while he would take on an entire standpoint in one specific direction, the remnants of one personality over the other. He'd had much more attention in the past few months than in the past so many years.  
  
'Better late than never,' Vegeta thought to himself as he reached into his pocket for his gloves. He grasped them and pulled them out to find that his gloves had been replaced with maroon colored mittens. He chuckled lightly and slipped them on, not really caring if he looked absurd. It wouldn't be the first time he had, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. The wind picked up slightly so he upturned his collar to help protect his bare neck.  
  
The sound of laughter interrupted his reverie, and he decided to head in the direction of the noise to see what the commotion was about. He walked through approximately fifty yards of forest, making his own path with his foot prints in the snow, and was quite surprised to see the Son family playing in the park. Chichi was sitting on a bench watching the boys run about the playground equipment, all of the Son males apparently very distracted.  
  
Vegeta smirked as he knelt down, gathering some snow and compacting it into a ball. He flung it like an expert pitcher and it hit its target precisely. Goku was actually knocked off of his feet from the unexpected attack which landed a blow on the back of his head. He landed face first in the freshly fallen snow. He groaned and began to get up when another object smacked him in the back. He got up and wiped his face clean, then turned to see what had happened.  
  
Vegeta stood a few feet away, tossing up and catching a snowball lazily, while the other hand was on his hip. Goku grinned at the challenge and grabbed a fistful of snow, molding it into a sphere and chucking it. Gohan began to join in when Chi-chi flagged him over. "Yea mom?" he asked, taking a seat next to her, waving Goten over as well.  
  
"Let those two have their fun," she said very solemnly.  
  
"I thought you didn't like Vegeta.." Gohan trailed off, not quite sure what to make of his mother's attitude.  
  
"I didn't," she corrected, lifting Goten up to fix his clothing, bundling him up tighter, "I had a talk with Bulma about Goku hanging around him so much."  
  
Gohan smiled, wondering what the deal had been with that as well, "And?"  
  
Chi-chi ignored Goten's mumbled complaints as she finished fixing him up, "Apparently Vegeta..has..had a..mental disorder."  
  
The demi-Saijin gaped for a moment before slowly replying, "What type of mental disorder?"  
  
Chi-chi sighed before smiling at her youngest son who waddled off to go play on the swings, to her left she could hear her husband and Vegeta fighting like school kids, "A type of Saijin duel personality disorder. I talked to Vegeta about it."  
  
The teen was taken aback - he couldn't imagine Vegeta and his mother having a nice chat over his own disabilities, "You _did_?"  
  
Chi-chi nodded and spoke matter-of-factly, "He explained to me the problem; that there was, quite literally, two of him that both wanted dominance over his body. Each personality did not like to help the other, and since they didn't like each other, each liked to do what the opposite told him to do. So, basically, he said that he did a lot of things out of confusion among, well..he said pain. I didn't understand what me meant and he told me that it was the pain of being incomplete. Seeing normal people made him angry because he wanted to be normal too."  
  
Gohan nodded, piecing together the puzzle, "I remember dad telling me that Vegeta wanted him to feel as humiliated as he had. He must of been very frustrated." Goku ran by, a blur of black, blue, and white with some skin tones mixed in. Vegeta followed after, holding a snowball big enough to crush a tree house.  
  
"Indeed," the lady replied, folding her arms.  
  
'Amazing,' Gohan thought to himself, still in shock.  
  
"Bulma said that your father was one of the few people both personalities would listen to. Apparently, Vegeta was remorseful over what he had done," Chi-chi continued, her voice finally taking on its natural lilt once more, "She also said that he apologized for killing him."  
  
Gohan nearly fell off of his seat, "But Vegeta never killed dad!"  
  
Chi-chi shrugged, speaking more casually, "Well, that's not the way Vegeta saw it. He said it was his fault, because he had let Cell absorb Android Eighteen. He apologized to me too, and I accepted." Gohan looked over at his father and Vegeta, who were wrestling on the ground in a tangle of limbs.  
  
Finally the prince rolled away from the battle and spread himself out on the snow. "Look, I'll make a snow Saijin," he said, unwinding his tail to give it the perfect imprint as a finishing touch. He leapt into the air and examined his work of art, beaming with pride.  
  
Goku dusted off his blue coat and stood up, "Feeling better today, Vegeta?"  
  
The brunette looked down at him and grinned, "Perhaps. Will you and your family be joining me and my family for dinner at the fine Capsule Corp establishment?"  
  
Goku nearly drooled at the thought of free food and ran over to Chi-chi, "Hey hon! We're invited over to Capsule Corp tonight! Let's go, ok?" Chi-chi paused to think about it when all three of the Son men leaned in, giving her the puppy dog look.  
  
"Pleeeeease?" they all begged.  
  
"Oh, alright," she gave in, cracking a small smile, "but you'll have to be on your best behavior! That goes for all three of you!"  
  
Gohan held a hand against his chest, "Even me? When have I ever done anything wrong?"  
  
His mother waggled a finger at him, "You always run off and save the world. None of that tonight, you hear?"  
  
Gohan laughed as he got up off of the bench, "Believe me, I'll try."  
  
Goku gave a hoot of excitement, "Yeah! Let's go Vegeta! I wanna try out the Capsule! You said you improved it, right?"  
  
Vegeta nodded as the other Saijin approached him, "That is correct."  
  
Goku beamed with joy and he waved to the others, "I'm gonna go early! Don't be afraid to catch up!" He put his hand on Vegeta's shoulder, and then, they were gone.  
  
"Always running off..." Chi-chi muttered to herself.  
  
They reappeared at Capsule Corp, in the back yard to be precise. Both of them landed quietly and Vegeta approached the main console, "So what do you want to start out at? 1000? 1500?" Something round suddenly hit him in the back of the head. "Oh, that's it.." Vegeta turned Super Saijin and leapt onto the younger man, "You're going down, pretty boy!"  
  
Goku laughed and powered up too, putting on his best mock hero voice, "Not before I stop you! Ha, HA!" Of course, being the Saijins that they were, a little fight soon turned into a big one and soon enough they had to discard of their torn winter coats.  
  
"Wow, you're a lot weaker than you used to be," Vegeta finally stated with a bullshit smirk.  
  
Goku laughed at him, knowing he was just playing around, "That's not true and you know it. _You_ just got stronger, Vegeta. Now, let's see how you handle my Kamehameha wave!"  
  
The prince rolled his eyes and yawned, "Oh, that attack? Geez, Kakkarot, you should think of something original. It's such an easy attack. How hard could it be to master?"  
  
Goku raised an eyebrow, smirking himself, "You'd be surprised."  
  
"What? You just cup your hands like this," Vegeta demonstrated while talking, "And say 'ka-me-ha-me-ha'!" He was about to continue his train of thought when a sudden burst of blue-white hot energy built in front of his hands and launched itself in the direction of which his hands were pointed, which also happened to be at Goku. The discharge took even the prince aback as he tore his hands away from each other, gasping loudly at the effort it took him to unlock the hold the attack seemed to have on him.  
  
Goku's first reaction was to dodge the large blast, but he then realized that the amount of ki that was being launched at him would most likely wipe out not only Capsule Corp, but the entire city, at least. He outstretched his hands, powered up to his maximum, and luckily, caught the blast before it caused any damage. Exerting some of his power, he dispersed the Kamehameha wave after a few moments, thereafter he turned to Vegeta, his eyes wide, looking for an answer. He found that Vegeta looked just as bewildered as him. "What?? I just put my hands together and said-" Vegeta started to repeat his actions when Goku instant transmissioned in front of him and grabbed his wrists.  
  
"I know what you did! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get an attack that powerful out of the Kamehameha? Cripes, Vegeta, don't do that again unless we're trying to kill Cell or someone, ok?" Goku replied, stunned.  
  
Vegeta put his hands down, stuttering and lightly blushing, partially because of the cold, partially because of the embarrassment, "O...Okay, Kakkarot."  
  
Goku floated down to the ground and released his Super Saijin form, noticing Vegeta right behind him, "Hey.." Vegeta glanced up at him as he picked up the shredded remains of his coat. "That was truly amazing, Vegeta," Goku said, giving the prince a lop-sided grin, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not worth the effort." The brunette's eyebrows knit together as he wasn't too sure of the meaning behind Goku's words.  
  
"Good to know," he replied, taking off his mittens to let his sweaty hands dry. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at Goku quizzically.  
  
"It's not your fault that I died," the black-haired man stated, "in the fight with Cell. I could have saved myself, you know."  
  
Vegeta's entire expression fell, his skin paling as his mind began putting two and two together, "You could have transmitted yourself back in enough time..?"  
  
Goku gave a small nod, a smile curving his lips, "My decision to stay in the afterlife had been made before I died. It's not your fault, Vegeta. I think it's about time you realized something very important."  
  
"What's that, Kakkarot?"  
  
"Bad things happen to good people."  
  
Goku smiled, and Vegeta returned it.  
  
"I think it's time to eat. Last one in is a rotten egg!" Vegeta said as he bolted towards the door.  
  
"Not fair! You got a head start!" Goku shouted, taking off after him.  
  
  
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HAPPY END! Ok, here's some select reviews that may or may not answer any questions/comments you may or may not have!  
  
**Daniel of Lorien** (userid=92324)  
interesting,but hard as hell to follow  
FELIX SAYS: Try reading Nowhere!  
  
**Moustachegirl** (userid=96429)  
BTW, what does "kutaji-aramone, akida" mean?  
FELIX SAYS: This line was taken out of the second, edited, version because, admit it, it sounds retarded. The new line is "The other swore loudly in Vegeta's native tongue." Putting it in context with the next sentence, No. 2 is telling Vegeta to be quiet in a not nice way.  
  
**Beji** (userid=152034)  
BTW; Did you know that a human that goes without REM sleep for four days becomes psychotic? At least until they get sleep. I rememebered that when you mentioned Vege-chan going 168 hours without sleep.  
FELIX SAYS: This is very true. I think this goes partly into the "I was asleep but I don't think I slept" feeling that Vegeta tends to get or his natural inclination to just forget to sleep/forget that he has slept. Also note that it's actually No. 2 who's telling him he hasn't slept in a week. A lot of the time he calls Vegeta "Prince Vegeta" or "little prince", etc. It wasn't Nappa.  
  
**rampage** (userid=166440)  
just a question, are you gonna do the same with Linkin Park's Hybrid Theory EP??  
FELIX SAYS: I don't have EP, but I'll look into getting it (or at least the songs, as it appears to be a little rare). If I like it enough, yes. And do expect Reanimation and Meteora to be coming soon. 


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